The Meaning of Flowers
by DragonLady37
Summary: "Astoria is cheating on me," he said. "I don't know what to do." There were dark circles under his eyes and even though his hair was clean, it was disheveled. Hermione put her small, cool hand on his shoulder. "You do what you have to. Not what's expected of you. Not what's easiest. But what's best for you. And it will most likely be dreadful, but you won't be alone."/EWE, Dramione
1. Amaryllis

**Another little story that's been wiggling around in my brain. Always Dramione. Always at least a little bit fluffy. This one is rated M for language and possible sexual content, so if you aren't 18, peace out!**

**As always, JK Rowling is queen. I am but her loyal subject. ****If you enjoy it, please let me know with a review, favorite, follow, or PM! **

_*My beta, Bella Luna 92, went back through this story and fixed it for me! She is the absolute best. So if this is your first read-through, you're getting the beta'd version! And if this is one you've already read, it's fixed now! Huzzah!*_

* * *

Draco was exhausted. He'd worked without a break for weeks upon weeks, but finally, after all that hard work, all those hours dedicated to one cause, the project he'd been working on was finished. When he'd first suggested it, Blaise had thought he was kidding. When he realized he wasn't, Blaise had jumped right in and helped as much as he could. Blaise was a lawyer, and as such, he would present the project to the Wizengamot when it was time.

The bill was a move toward equality between muggleborns and purebloods, and Draco hoped that by having his name on it, it would give it some weight, given his family's history and his massive change of heart. The bill would ensure that all muggleborn witches and wizards would be given an additional year - beginning at ten - of classes where they learned what to expect from and how to interact with the magical world. They'd be given additional materials as well - different artifacts they would interact with regularly at Hogwarts - in order to get used to them before they joined the general magical population. The money was set to come from fundraising, as there wasn't an abundance of new muggleborn witches and wizards each year. In addition, pureblood children destined for Hogwarts were to be given regular courses - sort of like day camps - from toddlerhood in which they were exposed to Muggle culture by a muggleborn witch or wizard. The pureblood ideas of superiority were still taught in private, but it wasn't as prevalent now. Draco hoped that by backing this bill, and by getting to the children when they were young, he'd be able to help future generations avoid the mistakes he'd made. For the last few weeks - or maybe it had been months, he'd lost track of time, if he were being honest - he'd been working on this bill, finding and writing through loopholes, making sure that the more bigoted purebloods on the Wizengamot couldn't find any loose threads to tug at and unravel it.

Draco was an Auror, and a damn good one, but he'd taken time off of fieldwork to work on this bill after he'd had to arrest three pureblooded kids - just turned seventeen - for going into Muggle London and harassing Muggle women. He shuddered to think of what would have happened to those women had they not been apprehended when they were - the young men had a very clear and devious intent. The only reason he'd caught them at all was because he'd been out on a double date - he and his wife, Astoria, out to dinner with his partner, Ron Weasley, and his fiancée, Hermione Granger. It was an odd group, to be sure, but over the last three years he'd become Weasley's friend, and surprising to everyone, Hermione had become one of, if not his only, best friend. On their date, he'd excused himself to use the restroom, and through the window of the restaurant, he saw one of the boys draw a wand. Draco had followed them as they tracked the Muggle women. He'd stayed back, and when the young men cast Imperius, Draco had called for Weasley, then gone after them. Weasley had gotten there in time to help Draco magically cuff them, and they'd sat with the women until a team of obliviators could arrive. Hermione and Astoria had come with Weasley, and it was at that moment, seeing his muggleborn best friend talk to the Muggle women, comforting them, that the idea for the bill, for the need for change, began. It had wrecked their date, but it had sparked the passion of the next few months of Draco's life.

But now, the bill was done. He'd given it to Blaise to begin preparing his presentation. It was out of his hands, and he could finally breathe.

After weeks and weeks of going in early, staying late, working weekends, Draco was headed home _early_ to see his wife, who'd he been neglecting for the entirety of the project. It had taken so much longer than he'd expected. He'd barely been home. Barely seen his wife. Barely slept. Astoria hadn't been thrilled with his hours at first. The first few days of leaving early and coming home late were hard, but then she'd seemed to think it through and told him she understood. Since the project started, they'd had only a handful of meals together, a few pecks on the cheek, and he planned to fix that immediately.

Draco walked down Diagon Alley and picked up a bouquet of her favorite flowers - red amaryllises. She'd told him once that she loved them because they represented beauty. Since then, he'd gotten them for Astoria regularly so she would know how beautiful she was to him. He was exhausted, mentally, and physically, but he owed Astoria his time. He had a lot of missed time to make up for, and he had a plan. Well, it had actually been Granger's idea for him to take a long weekend with his wife. She promised it would make Astoria feel treasured.

When Hermione had suggested the retreat, she'd said it with such longing that Draco made a mental note to talk to Weasley and suggest he do something similar for his witch. He thought Weasley was a good man, but he was also the most oblivious person Draco had ever met, and unless Hermione spelled it out for him, he'd never take the hint. He'd done something similar for their last anniversary. Hermione had been talking about a new exhibit at the wizarding museum for weeks. Draco hadn't wanted to meddle, of course, but he'd seen Hermione dropping hint after hint and had seen his partner missing each one, so he'd stepped in and suggested, casually, that Weasley take her. He had, and Hermione had been so happy. Draco had told Astoria, and she'd gotten unreasonably angry. She wasn't a fan of his friendship with Hermione, so he wouldn't mention that their romantic weekend getaway had been Hermione's idea. When they got back, he'd take Hermione out for a thank you coffee at their usual place.

Red amaryllises in hand, he headed home. He planned to give her the flowers, then literally sweep her off her feet and tell her about their surprise trip. He apparated into their living room, and the house was extremely quiet, which wasn't abnormal. They lived alone - no elves, no kids, no pets.

After kicking off his loafers next to the couch - something Astoria hated, but a habit he couldn't quite shake - he made his way to the kitchen to put her flowers in a crystal vase with water and a stasis charm so they wouldn't start to wilt anytime soon. Astoria preferred her flowers to last weeks, but she didn't want to put the charm on herself. She said it ruined the illusion of perfection for her.

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and took a long pull before rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. Feeling a bit more relaxed, he made his way up the stairs toward the library where he assumed Astoria was. She didn't read many books, but she read magazines and periodicals from all over the continent, and she liked taking her afternoon tea in the library to take advantage of the good light from the large windows. After peeking in, and seeing that she wasn't there, he headed toward their bedroom. It had been _months _since they'd been intimate, and while he was tired and not really in the mood, she liked to be surprised. Maybe he could surprise her with more than just flowers and a trip.

He loosened his tie and was a moment from opening the door when he heard a muffled sound from inside. Draco may have been on the wrong side of the war for most of it, but an unidentified noise was something that still made his wand come out and his muscles tense - a reflex he wasn't sure would ever go away. He was by no means a brave man, but he'd become, at the very least, less of a coward. Muscles tensed to fight, he leaned toward the door, ear pressed to the wood, heart racing. Part of what made him such a good Auror was that he didn't rush in without assessing the risk first.

The wooden doors of their home were thick, and all he could hear was a rhythmic thumping. As he listened, frozen, the thumping sound sped up. And then, as the sound reached a fevered pitch, he heard Astoria scream. He knew that sound, though he hadn't heard it in some time. It was the sound of his wife coming undone. He'd only heard it a handful of times, as Astoria wasn't a particularly vocal lover, but there was no way he would mistake it. He'd only ever had one lover, and right now, she was in their room, shagging someone else.

His fear was replaced with a flood of anger. Without another moment's hesitation, he threw an unlocking charm at the door and shoved it open, wand out defensively.

Astoria was sitting up, back to him, riding another man in their marital bed. She screeched when Draco burst in and covered her bare chest as the man, who Draco couldn't see, pushed her off him and rolled away. With a sharp crack, the man was gone.

"Goddammit, Draco!" Astoria screamed, throwing a pillow at him. "Don't you ever knock?"

Draco's wand arm fell as he stared at her. _She _was angry with _him. _He gritted his teeth, and his hands balled into fists.

Draco threw her clothes at her, and she dressed angrily. He yelled at her, screaming, asking for an explanation, and she just stared, eyes cold, without answering. When he finally had nothing left to say, she finally spoke. She laid into him, trying to convince him that it was _his _fault she'd gone to someone else. It had been months since his stupid little bill writing crusade began, but even before that, he'd neglected her. She yelled _I'm a woman with needs, Draco. It's **your** fault if those needs aren't being met! _

That statement, that realization, that he'd pushed her to this had caused him to fall into the chair in the living room, where they'd migrated as they fought, and put his face in his hands. It wasn't his fault that she'd shagged someone else, but it was his fault that she'd felt neglected and unloved.

They argued through the rest of the day, and by the time night fell, Draco realized, with a crushing certainty, that Astoria didn't love him like she once had. Their marriage had been arranged, but they'd cared for one another. He'd fallen in love with her early on, and he'd thought she'd fallen in love with him, too. But now, he wasn't so sure.

He asked her to leave so he could think, and she'd left without argument or a backward glance as if she were happy to go and had been waiting for him to suggest it.

The rest of the night, he sat in the hallway, staring at the bedroom door, unable to go in. He'd had the house built with her in mind, the bedroom built to her specifications. She'd wanted a separate bedroom for herself - something common in pureblood households - but he'd convinced her that they were in love and he didn't want to be away from her. She'd conceded, and at the time, it had been further proof for him that she loved him.

What a crock.

* * *

When the sun rose, he'd finally gone downstairs and had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the floo, which he locked so no one could enter or call.

He spent the whole day following his unfortunate discovery, and the following night, drinking, pacing, and sleeping. He didn't shower. He didn't eat. He just drank - Muggle beer that Hermione had introduced him to, firewhiskey, elf wine, even the little sweet bottled Muggle drinks that Astoria liked - paced, and slept in spurts. He wasn't supposed to be back to work until Monday, and it was only Friday. He was supposed to be on a romantic getaway with his wife. No one was going to come looking for him.

Which is why it was so surprising when, on Friday afternoon, Hermione showed up and banged on his door as if he'd been missing for weeks.

"I know you're home, Draco!" she called, pounding on the door as loudly as she could. "I'm not going anywhere until you let me in."

He'd opened the door after she'd called for him for nearly ten minutes, knowing her well enough to know that she wouldn't go away. The door opened, light poured in. Hermione wrinkled her nose, moving gently past him into the dark foyer without waiting for an invitation.

"What are you doing here?" he asked gruffly, stumbling slightly as he shut the door to block out the light. He followed her through the house to the kitchen and saw the vivid red amaryllises - he'd forgotten about them - and his heart plummeted. He then followed Hermione into the kitchen without saying a word.

"Sit," she said, pointing to the kitchen table. She retrieved a sobering potion from the medicine cabinet and placed it in front of him. Summoning ingredients, she made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and placed it in front of him, beside the potion, on a paper napkin with a small glass of milk. "Eat."

"Granger," he growled, the room tilting slightly as he wobbled in his chair, but she only pushed the food and medicine closer. He grumbled as he downed the sickly sweet potion, feeling his state of drunkenness lift almost immediately, and then quickly shoveled the sandwich in his mouth. He hadn't realized he was hungry until he ate it, and he washed it down with the small glass of cold milk feeling both better and worse.

Hermione moved around the kitchen, throwing away beer bottles, wiping up firewhiskey spills, and moving the vase of flowers into the pantry, out of sight. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked when the room was more orderly. She stood beside him, looking down at him with those big, warm brown eyes.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He felt tears well in his eyes, and she handed him a clean cloth, then turned to do the few dishes piled in the sink, letting him work out whatever emotions he had without judgment. It was one of the reasons they'd become such good friends. She gave what he needed without being asked. She had since the day they decided to have a truce, just after Weasley was assigned to be his partner. Once their pasts were, not forgotten, but forgiven, they'd quickly realized they had a lot in common.

"Why did you come here?" he asked after clearing his throat, his emotions temporarily at bay.

Hermione wiped her hands on a dishtowel and turned to face him, leaning against the sink. She was wearing olive green khakis, and a white button-down with her favorite mustard cardigan, instead of her favored stonewashed jeans and tee shirt with the same mustard cardigan. She'd been at work. He looked at the clock on the wall - 3 PM - she'd left work early to come here. Guilt invaded his already overloaded emotional circuit.

"I saw Astoria in Diagon Alley, having lunch with some of her friends. I went to say hello and overheard her - " she took a deep breath and came back to the table, sitting in front of him with a sad look and a sigh. "I just knew you would be here, and I assumed you might want some company."

"I'm fine," he said, wadding up the napkin she'd put his sandwich on.

"Of course you are," she said, giving him a look that showed just how little she believed him. "Listen, if you want me to _believe_ you're fine, then go, take a shower, and let me make you something to eat to put in your fridge. I'll leave after that, OK?" She raised her eyebrows. "I've spent my whole life taking care of the ridiculous boys I consider to be friends." She pointed her finger at him. "You have to let me do this."

He stared at her for a long moment. He still saw the little girl he'd bullied for years, the little girl he'd thought he hated, but more than that, he saw the woman who'd given him the benefit of the doubt, who'd forgiven him, and who'd become his very best friend. Staring at her now, he knew he would do whatever she asked because even though he was too prideful to admit it aloud, he knew that she was always right.

"Fine," he said with a huff, standing, surprised when the room didn't spin. "Thanks for the potion," he said, ducking his head.

"Go. Shower. I'll be here when you get out." She smiled at him and started pulling out pans from beneath the cabinet.

He looked at her for a long moment, moving through his kitchen as easily as if it were her own. Astoria hadn't cooked in this kitchen even once in all the years they'd lived here. With a sigh, he headed toward the guest bathroom, not ready to go into the master suite yet.

When Draco saw himself in the bathroom mirror, he was mortified. His hair was stringy around his face. His stubble was scruffy and ran down his neck. He lifted his arm to smell his shirt and recoiled. With a grimace, he stripped his clothes off, tossed them in the hamper, and stepped quickly into the shower.

Hermione was his friend. She didn't care what he looked, or smelled, like. But the knowledge that she'd seen him like this made him supremely uncomfortable.

* * *

When he emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later - showered and shaved - he was greeted with the smell of spaghetti sauce and garlic bread — his favorite comfort food.

"Well, that's better," she said with a smile as she saw him. She ladled pasta and sauce onto two plates. She planned to stay and eat with him, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

"You're going to stay?" he asked, ashamed of how he'd spoken to her earlier.

She nodded. "Unless you _really_ want me to leave," she said, looking at him from beneath her long lashes with a knowing smile.

"Thanks, Granger," he said, ducking his head and putting his hands in the pockets of his flannel pajama pants.

In companionable silence, they ate. About halfway through the meal, Hermione got up to get more napkins from the pantry, and Draco noticed the vase of amaryllis was no longer there. He didn't ask where she'd put it. Napkins in hand, Hermione retrieved two beers from the fridge before rejoining him. She'd sobered him up because he wasn't functioning, but he was hurting, so she was giving him just enough to take the edge off. She always seemed to know exactly what he needed.

When the leftovers were put away, and the dishes were scrubbed, Hermione and Draco sat at his kitchen table, drinking a second beer each in a heavy silence.

"So, are you ready to talk about it yet?" Hermione asked as she took a small sip from the bottle, then wiped her bottom lip with the tip of her finger.

He took a deep breath and looked at her. Before her, he'd never been one to share feelings. Not with Blaise, not with his wife, not with anyone. But from the moment Hermione had come back into his life, it was like she'd filled some void he hadn't realized was there. He trusted her with his deepest, darkest secrets. He trusted her with information that could be used against him, could destroy him. He trusted her with everything.

"Astoria is cheating on me," he said before taking a drink. "I came home Thursday to surprise her with that trip you suggested - the romantic weekend getaway - and I walked in on them." He took a bigger drink and set the bottle down with force. "Caught them in the act, her right one top. Didn't see his face." Another drink.

"Draco," she said, leaning forward slightly. "I'm so sorry." The sincerity in her voice always shocked him, no matter how often he heard it.

He took another drink. "I don't know what to do," he said. There were dark circles under his eyes, and even though his hair was clean now, it was disheveled. "Pureblood divorces are almost unheard of," he said as he picked at the label of his beer bottle with his thumbnail. "But I just don't think I can stay with her after - " Tears pricked his eyes, and he stared across the table, vision blurring. "I love her, you know? And she didn't even _pretend_ to be ashamed or upset." His voice was husky as he downed the last of his beer. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the backs of his hands on top of the table. "What do I do?" he asked, eyes closed.

Hermione took a deep breath and put her small, cool hand on his shoulder. "You do what you have to. Not what's expected of you. Not what's easiest. But what's _best_ for _you_. And it will most likely be dreadful, and difficult, but you won't be alone." She squeezed his shoulder gently. "You owe it to yourself to do what's best for you, Draco."

"She'll get half of everything," he said with a moan. "And I don't have as much as I used to." He squeezed his eyes tight.

She laughed lightly, and her hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his head. She gently stroked the hair at the nape of his neck as a mother might for a child. His mother never had, but he was sure mothers somewhere did something similar.

"You'll make do with what you have," she said softly.

"It's not just the money." He took a stuttering breath. "Damn it all to hell, but I love her. I didn't expect to when we got married, but I do now, and she goes and does _this_." His voice was muffled by the table, and he felt anger bubble up.

"I know you love her," she said, her voice thick with sadness. "But that doesn't mean you deserve to be treated this way." Her fingertips pressed into the sides of his neck in a pseudo massage. He couldn't help but enjoy the feel of her skin on his. Even in their prime, Astoria hadn't been overly affectionate. It felt nice to be touched, even in friendship.

With a sigh, he pushed himself back up, her fingers falling away. He wiped tears from beneath his eyes, then took one of her hands in his. "I know you're right." He sighed again. "What would I do without you?" he asked, his gray eyes filled with emotion.

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "I've honestly no idea. How you made it the first 20 years of your life without me in your corner is a mystery we may never understand."

He laughed and squeezed her fingers. She always knew what he needed.

"You're going to be alright," she said, taking his hand more firmly in hers and giving it a squeeze. "You can floo me, anytime, day or night. If you need a couch to sleep on, we have one. If you just need to scream and throw things, I'll bring things to break. Just tell me what you need, and I'm here. OK?" She squeezed his fingers again. "And Ronald is, too. He's not very good with emotions, but he's your friend, too." She gave him a tight smile.

"I really, _really_ don't deserve a friend like you," Draco said, dreading the moment she would leave him alone, but knowing it was coming soon. She had a life, a home, a fiancé, a job.

"That's true." She smiled and stood, pulling him with her. Without hesitation, she pulled him into her arms and hugged him tightly around the waist. He laid his cheek on her head and sighed. "I have to go - Ronald will be home soon, and I'll need to have dinner ready - but, floo me, OK?" she said, and he nodded. "I mean it." She hugged him once more, then released him with a smile. "You _are_ going to be OK." With a nod, she turned and left.

He listened for the sound of the floo coming to life in the other room - she'd reactivated it while he was in the shower, apparently - signaling Hermione's departure. He grabbed another beer, promising himself he wouldn't overdo it like before and made his way to the couch. He couldn't go back to sleep in his room. Not yet.

He propped his feet up on the coffee table and slowly drank the rest of his beer, thinking of how he would proceed moving forward. He'd contact Blaise in the morning to work up divorce papers. Hermione was right. As usual, he knew he'd never get over this, and he had to do what was right for him, fallout be damned. He'd contact his mother after, letting her know what to expect from the press. And he'd send Hermione a gift to say thank you.

Draco fell asleep on the couch, beer bottle empty and at his feet, feeling, if not content, at least sure of what he needed to do.

When he woke again, it was nearly midnight. His neck was sore from lying at an angle, and with a huff, he stood and made his way to his bedroom. He shouldn't have to suffer through a night on a too-small couch when he had a perfectly good bed just a few rooms away. He wouldn't let Astoria take away the comforts of his home.

The sheets were still tangled from where Astoria and her lover had been in them. Too tired to be angry, Draco grabbed the sheets and blankets with both hands and yanked them off the bed, heaping them in a pile near the door. After retrieving clean bedclothes, he set to making the bed by hand, needing the release of pulling the sheets and tucking the blankets aggressively, as if he could somehow force the memory of Astoria atop another wizard from his mind if he tucked the sheets hard enough.

With a sigh, he brushed his teeth, took a long look in the mirror - he looked bloody awful, still - and went to crawl into bed. Immediately, the image of Astoria, bouncing, screaming, was in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced that image away, and in its place, he saw Hermione, looking at him with her warm, brown eyes. In his mind, he could hear her voice telling him that he was strong and that everything would be OK.

* * *

He woke hours later to the sun streaming directly into his eyes. He hadn't shut the curtains before bed, and he was paying for it now. He groaned and rolled from the bed, rubbing his eyes to try and rid himself of the small headache just behind them. Stumbling, he lurched for the bathroom, only to curse and jump back as something sharp stabbed him in the foot before he could make it even halfway there.

"What the bloody hell?" he said as he leaned down to pick up the offending object. His eyes were blurry but cleared remarkably quickly when he saw what he was holding in his hand. A silver tie clip bent from being stepped on, with initials engraved into the flat, shiny front. Draco sat heavily on his bed, tie clip in hand, and felt a whole new wave of sadness and anger crash over him as he realized who exactly his wife was having an affair with.


	2. White Jasmine

**Onto Part 2! Thanks so much for your support on this fic so far! I appreciate all of you! This chapter is rated M for language and implied sexual acts, but still if you're not 18 or older, PEACE!**

_*A huge thanks to my beta, Bella Luna 92, for taking my scrappy sentences and turning them into something readable.*_

* * *

When Hermione came through the floo to their modest flat, Ron was already home, sitting on the couch, watching sports on the telly. She hadn't expected him home for an hour or two still. Before she'd gone to Draco's, she'd sent him an owl, letting him know what was going on with their friend. He'd responded with a quick note: _Rotten luck. See you for dinner. _The note had been disappointing, but unsurprising. As much as she loved him, Ron wasn't the sort of boyfriend - _fiancé, _she reminded herself - who ran to the rescue of friends. But he was home early, which meant that, at least, he was _concerned_ for Draco. She smiled.

"How was he?" Ron asked as Hermione used the floo brush to knock ash from her shoulders.

Hermione took off her shoes and laid them on the brick mantle before sitting on the couch, curling into Ron's side as she had for just over five years. His arm slipped around her, but he kept his eyes on the telly. _He'd come home early to check on his friend, _she reminded herself. He was allowed to watch the telly after a hard day of work.

"Pretty rough," she said as she laid her head on his shoulder. "Unfortunately, I was right about what I overheard Astoria saying. She _was_ with someone else and he caught them. _In the act._" Her heart hurt for Draco and she shuddered as she imagined what he must have felt upon seeing it.

"Who was it?" Ron asked, eyes still glued to the telly, even though only commercials were on the screen. He'd never handled emotional things well.

"He doesn't know. He said he never saw his face. I'm not sure if that makes it better, or worse, for him." She waited a long moment for some kind of response, and when Ron didn't so much as nod or grunt, she started to grow frustrated. She sighed and lifted her head from his shoulder. "Anyway, Draco was just in a really bad state. If I'd known you be home early, I would have tried to get home before now. I can start dinner." She started to pull away, but his arm around her stopped her.

"Already ate. I ordered some fish and chips from that delivery place down the street," he said, kissing her temple. For a moment she felt a surge of affection for him - that he would understand her friend needed her, that he wouldn't be upset she wasn't here for one dinner. "You always run late when it comes to him." He scoffed lightly, ruining whatever sweetness she'd felt.

Hermione sighed and held her irritation at bay. Ron and Draco were friends, but he'd never liked that _Hermione _was his friend, too. In school, Ron hadn't liked her friendship with Harry, either. She refused to let her insecure fiancé's feelings stop her from being friends with whomever she chose, especially when said friend was in pain.

"How was your day?" She pushed her feelings of frustration aside and sat up to look at him, hoping to steer the conversation in a more pleasant direction. He shrugged, taking a drink of the butterbeer he held in his other hand, eyes not even flicking toward her. She wanted him to look at her, just for a minute. He used to not be able to keep his eyes off of her. She thought about kissing him, but lately, even that failed to grab his attention. So instead, she tried a riskier tactic. "Looking forward to getting Draco back as your partner soon?"

Ron sighed. "Eh, I don't know, 'Mione." He looked at her, finally, his expression sheepish. "You know you get on with him better than me - "

"That's not true. You make excellent partners!" she said, bristling. She'd expected he might get mad, not to get mad herself.

"We don't. I mean, he's a different bloke than the ferret we went to school with, that's for sure, and we've learned to be amiable, but we don't have that chemistry good partners should have." He shrugged, pulling his arm away from her shoulder to pick up the remote. "Besides, I've been getting on well with Taylor, and I'd hate to abandon him now that Malfoy's decided to come back into the field after his little vacation." He flipped the channel.

Hermione felt white-hot anger well up inside her like lava about to erupt. "_Little vacation?_ He's been working on something _important_, Ronald." Hermione scooted away to properly look at him, her brow creased. "His proposal would ensure that muggleborn children - _like me_ \- would be on a level playing field with pureblood children when they began school, while simultaneously making sure that pureblood _bigotry_ isn't passed along to future generations! He's not been on _vacation, _he's been working on a possible _law_ that could literally change the way muggleborn children are integrated into our society! He's barely even slept since he started."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying, he's been out of the field for months. He and I've barely spoken in all that time. A change of partners wouldn't hurt either of us at this point." He shrugged.

Hermione stared at Ron, quietly seething. "He _needs_ us right now, Ron. He's going through something awful. You can't just abandon - "

"We both know he doesn't _need_ me like he _needs_ _you_," Ron said, a familiar, jealous edge darkening his voice.

Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes. "Gods, not this again." She couldn't keep having the same fight over and over.

"OK. I'm sorry. I know you're only friends," he said, turning from the telly again to look at her, mild panic registering in his cornflower-blue eyes. "And it took me some time, but I'm OK with it now. I _really_ am. But just because _you're_ friends with him, doesn't mean I have to be," he whined. He'd never dropped this argument so quickly. She should accept it and move on, but she couldn't because her best friend was hurting and her fiancé was being a selfish arse.

"But you _are _his friend!" she said, angry tears welling in her eyes. "I know you don't get on like he and I do, but you're still friends!"

Ron sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "We get on all right, but I wouldn't say we're friends. He's - he's _Malfoy_," he said with a shrug. "I'd trust him to have my back in the field because he's a good auror, but I don't necessarily enjoy having him over for dinner or playing a pickup game of quidditch with him." He looked at her with pleading eyes. "I'd just like to keep my work life and home life separate as much as I can." He scrubbed his face. "It's fine, you going there to help him out, but I just - "

Her eyes narrowed as she sat up straight. "I told him he could stay here, on our couch, if he needed," Hermione said, her voice tight.

Ron looked at her for a moment, his expression switching from pleading to irritated in a heartbeat, and then he sank back into the couch, bringing his butterbeer to his mouth with a grunt.

Hermione stared at him, heart pounding painfully. He was being selfish. He was being a prat. "I think I'm going to take a bath," she said, muscles tense, jaw clenched.

Ron's eyes popped up to hers and he smiled, _really_ looking at her for the first time since she'd walked in. "Want some company?" he asked, putting the remote down and the butterbeer next to it. He wore the smile that, in the past, had always made her weak in the knees. When they'd first gotten together, that look could stop nearly any fight and get her to wrap her arms around his neck and melt into the sweet comfort that was _her _Ron. But not now.

"I don't think so." She stood, her expression a neutral mask, something she'd picked up from Draco over the last few years. "I'd hate to interrupt your program."

Ron's hopeful expression immediately turned sour - his emotions were as varied and rapidly changing as a yoyo this evening - and he once again sat back, eyes on the telly, mouth in a tight line.

For a brief moment, she felt guilty - he'd wanted intimacy, and it could have served as an olive branch - but she quickly brushed it off. He wasn't trying to fix their fight, he just wanted a shag. He wasn't being the Ron she fell in love with.

With stiff movements, Hermione walked to the bathroom and ran a bath for herself. She poured some bubble mixture in, inhaling the intoxicating scent of white jasmine. Draco had gotten the mix for her last Christmas and it always relaxed her, though she tried to use it sparingly to make it last.

As she sank into the bubbles, she closed her eyes, letting the warm water and sweet jasmine scent envelop her.

* * *

"_Bubble bath?" she asked with a laugh as she unwrapped the small package._

"_Not just any bubble bath," Draco said with a smirk. He pointed to the label - a lovely white jasmine flower. "White jasmine bubble bath."_

"_And that makes it special, how?" Hermione asked, taking the lid off to smell it, closing her eyes when she realized how lovely it really was. "Oh, that's very nice."_

"_White jasmine represents sweet love," he said. She felt her face heat at the implication and hoped he didn't see. The room was very warm, after all. "I thought I'd do you and my partner a favor with this gift. One sniff and he won't be able to keep his hands off you." He waggled his eyebrows at her and she laughed, embarrassment forgotten. _

"_You're such a **man**," she said, rolling her eyes._

_He laughed and nudged her with his shoulder. "Also," he said, looking at his feet instead of at her. "Flowers are a proper gift for a witch, but they're fleeting. They wilt and then they're gone. There are a few flowers that represent friendship, but - well, I didn't know if it would be appropriate to get you any of them. So I found a compromise. White jasmine bubble bath." He finally met her eyes, his expression adorably unsure. "It's rather stupid, now that I think about it." _

_Never in all the time she'd known him had she seen Draco Malfoy unsure about anything. It was a new look on him, and she rather liked it._

_Hermione put her hand on his arm and smiled, giving his forearm a squeeze. "It's perfect," she said with a smile. "Thank you."_

* * *

For that same Christmas, she'd gotten him a tie clip with his initials etched into it. She'd gotten one for all the men in her life - Ron, Harry, Draco, Blaise, Neville, and Theo - and had made them take a photo together while wearing them. They'd hated the photo, of course, but she loved it. She kept it on her desk at The Bookshop. Neville, teaching Herbology at Hogwarts, never had a chance to wear his, and Theo wasn't the sort to wear ties ever, so she was relatively sure theirs were still in their boxes somewhere, but the others - all Ministry employees - did regularly, which always made her happy. Never one to have many girlfriends, Hermione was delighted that her friendship with Draco had led to friendships with the other two Slytherin men as well.

By the time her bathwater had cooled and the scent of jasmine had faded, Hermione's anger with Ron was nearly gone. She climbed from the water and toweled off, slipping into her usual sleepwear - cotton shorts and a mismatched tee shirt that was threadbare, but soft. She touched her favorite necklace - a rose gold pendant - that she kept hanging by the bathroom door so she would remember to wear it every day.

Hermione walked into her bedroom, expecting to find Ron in bed, or at least getting ready to come to bed, but he wasn't there. The telly was still on in the living room, so she went out, intending to apologize and talk with him, but he wasn't there either. There was a note on the coffee table beside the remote.

_Gone out to get a few drinks with some workmates. Be home late._

No sign-off. No explanation. Hermione bristled and then deflated. This had been happening more and more of late, and rather than being sad or angry, it just made her tired. She'd gone to bed alone, even when he was off duty, more often than not of late. She should have expected, after a row, to go to bed alone again.

She half entertained the idea of popping back over to Draco's for a bit, just to talk, but instantly dismissed it. Going to Draco's house during the day to comfort him was one thing, but going over late at night - it was nearly ten - was something else. That was crossing a line she could not justify to herself, even if they were only friends. Innocent though it would be, Ron wouldn't understand. And if their roles were reversed, she knew she wouldn't understand either. So, she stayed at home. Alone.

Tomorrow was Saturday. She would let Ron sleep in, then take him for brunch at his favorite little place to eat, and after, when he was in a better mood, they would go see Draco together to make sure he was all right. Tomorrow would be a better day for all of them. She would make sure of it. She fell asleep making a mental checklist of all she would do tomorrow to keep two of the most important men in her life happy.

* * *

Ron didn't come home until early in the morning. Hermione had fallen asleep around eleven, but when he came in, stumbling and cursing, she woke. A quick look at the clock told her it was close to four.

He stumbled into the bathroom and knocked something off the counter. Hermione lay still, listening. The shower came on, and she frowned. He never showered before bed, but perhaps he'd been in a smokey bar or spilled something on himself. When the shower turned off minutes later, he came to bed, clad only in shorts. She had planned to talk to him for a few moments, but he fell on top of the covers, asleep before she could even let him know that she was awake.

She lay there for a while watching him breathe and tried to sort through her overly tired emotions. Watching him sleep had always calmed her down.

Ron had proposed to her just after he made auror. They'd been dating since the end of the war, and when he made auror, he got a surge of confidence that was extremely attractive. He'd had everyone there - his family, Harry, their friends from school - and he'd given a speech to her about how they were meant to be, citing evidence from every year they'd been at Hogwarts together. Hermione had been shocked. She said yes, of course, but she really didn't have an option to say no. Not that she _wanted_ to say no, she just would have preferred a bit of time to consider. But with everyone they loved in attendance, she felt the pressure to say yes right then. So she did.

She didn't regret it, but she did wish he'd give her time to think.

They'd gotten engaged when they were twenty, moved in together immediately to start building a life together, and now it was three years later and they still hadn't set a date.

After the proposal, Ron had seemed content, so she hadn't pushed for more. And the part of Hermione that wanted to consider all the avenues of what a marriage would entail was happy they weren't rushing into a wedding. She hadn't had time to consider the engagement, so this was her time to make mental lists and look at it from all sides. But lately, his attitude was making her second guess all of it. Since their engagement, he'd gone from loving to apathetic and she didn't know what to make of it.

Her only saving grace over the last few years had been her friendship with Draco. A week after Ron made auror and proposed, when the allure of showing off Hermine and her ring was still fresh, he was partnered with Draco. Hermione remembered how angry Ron had been when Kingsley had told him, and how he'd almost quit. But then she'd talked him out of it, and they'd gone to an official meet and greet for new partners where her friendship with Draco had really begun.

* * *

"_What is this for again?" Hermione asked Ron, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, her engagement ring feeling clunky and out of place on her hand. She'd need to learn a spell to size it so that it fit better._

"_A meet and greet dance-type dinner party," he said, plucking a glass of red wine from a tray and handing it to her. "Kingsley wants us all to get to know each other. He thinks it's important for us to be friends with our partners." He rolled his eyes and threw back his firewhiskey. "And he thinks food, drinks, and dancing will help with that somehow."_

"_He wants you to be friends with Malfoy?" Hermione asked, wrinkling her nose. "I think that's a bit ambitious."_

"_He not only wants us to be friends with our partners," he said with a grimace. "He wants our families to get along, too. Says it'll build trust and make us work harder for one another. So - "_

"_So I have to be friends with him, too?" she asked, eyes wide with panic. _

_Ron nodded. "Afraid so."_

_With a grimace of her own, Hermione downed her glass of red wine as he had his firewhiskey. "Well, best get this over with then," she said as they made their way to the table they'd been assigned._

_Malfoy was already seated, his back to them, talking to a beautiful brunette woman who Hermione vaguely recognized from school. When the woman saw them, a look of mild distaste graced her features and she whispered something to Malfoy. He turned, saw them, and stood, smoothing his suit jacket as he did so._

"_Weasley," he said, extending his hand. Ron took it after a second's hesitation and gave it a firm shake. Malfoy then turned to Hermione, and she felt her stomach clench, preparing for whatever insults he might throw, however subtle. "Granger, it's good to see you." He offered his hand and she took it out of basic politeness. He didn't shake her hand as he had Ron's, but had instead lifted it and brushed his lips against her knuckles before releasing it. His eyes caught on the engagement ring Ron had given her - a huge diamond set in a golden band with small diamonds around the edges. He took a step back and smiled. "I take it congratulations are in order?" he asked as his date stood and slipped against his side, his arm going around her waist._

"_We were engaged last week," Ron said, standing straighter, his arm going around Hermione's waist in the same way Malfoy's arm had gone around the brunette's._

"_Well then, congratulations to both of you. When's the big day?" His genuine smile caught them both off guard, but Hermione recovered first._

"_We haven't decided yet, but I always thought a spring wedding would be nice," she said, feeling as if this whole conversation might be some surreal dream. "I love spring flowers."_

"_It would," he said with a smile. The brunette at his side coughed lightly and Draco turned to her and smiled. "My apologies, I'm being rude. Weasley, Granger, this is my wife, Astoria." He kissed Astoria's cheek. "Astoria was a few years behind us at Hogwarts," he said, a charmingly light blush on his pale cheeks._

"_I remember," Ron said, surprising Hermione. "Your sister was in our year, yeah?" he asked. _

_Astoria nodded and smiled, the epitome of a demure wife._

"_Wife?" Hermione asked with a smile of her own that felt weirdly natural, even though they were talking to Malfoy of all people. "I didn't realize you were married, Malfoy."_

"_We married a few weeks ago," he said with a smile. _

"_A spring wedding," Hermione said, the smile still on her face. "I'm sure the flowers were beautiful."_

"_Amaryllises, tulips, and roses. All flowers that represent love," Malfoy said, staring down at his wife with clear adoration on his face. For her part, she looked properly adored, but also, more than a little bit bored._

"_That's lovely, isn't it Ron?" Hermione asked as she looked up at him. Ron was scowling at the pair but nodded. _

"_Let's sit," Malfoy said, pulling out a chair for his wife. Hermione looked to Ron, hoping for the sake of appearances that he would do the same for her, but he was already seated, hunched low in his seat, so she sat, pushing away her irrational irritation. It wouldn't do any good to compare their relationships. That was foolish and childish._

"_So, Granger," Malfoy said as he sipped the firewhiskey at the table, "What are you doing these days?" Beside him, Astoria stared at her with an unreadable mask on her beautiful face._

"_Oh, I own a little shop, The Bookshop, on Diagon Alley. Just opened a few months ago." Hermione shrugged in a self-deprecating way, though in reality, her store - which carried books from both wizards and muggles - was doing quite well._

"_A shop? How quaint. What's it called?" Astoria asked, her voice as lovely as her face, and just as emotionless._

"_The Bookshop is the name, I believe," Draco said, turning to her. "We passed it just last week, remember? I said I wanted to go in, but we were late for dinner with your parents."_

"_Oh, yes." Astoria sipped her white wine with a nod. _

"_I've been meaning to stop by there. I have a few books I've been meaning to get and haven't had time. Now that I know you're the owner, I'll make sure to do so." He gave her a small smile and nodded. Hermione felt her face warm._

_The food was delivered then, saving them from more semi-awkward conversation and giving Hermione time to wrap her head around these almost pleasant, friendly feelings she was experiencing. Around bites of mediocre food, the four made small talk until the music began, followed quickly by people dancing all around them. _

"_Come on, 'Mione," Ron as he stood, his dinner plate and dessert plate clean. "Let's dance."_

"_Can we wait a few minutes?" Hermione asked with a grimace. "I think I've overdone it on the dessert and I'd like to let it settle a bit." True enough, her plate of chocolate cake held only crumbs. Astoria's, on the hand, was untouched. When Hermione saw this, she felt her cheeks color slightly, but tried to brush it off._

"_Astoria, darling, why don't you dance with Weasley for this first song. I've a book I'd like to ask Granger about." Draco kissed his wife's hand and she gave him an adoring look, before nodding. _

_Gracefully she stood. Ron, red-faced and awkward, offered his arm and led her to the dance floor where other couples had already begun. Ron was a terrible dancer, and Hermione felt sorry for Astoria's toes as they took off._

"_So, you're looking for a book?" she asked nervously, turning her attention to the handsome blonde man across from her. Talking to Malfoy alone was a whole different ball game than talking to him with others present, but she was willing to give it a shot for the sake of her fiancé's partnership. _

"_Honestly? No." He cleared his throat, his smile gone, and Hermione's skin prickled with mild panic. "I actually wanted to - " he took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, wincing as he realized he'd wrecked the style. "I wanted to apologize to you," he rushed out. When he met her eyes, she was shocked to find that she found him sincere._

"_Oh," was all she managed as her panic faded away._

_He leaned forward, elbows on the table, all manner of proper gentleman gone without Astoria there. "I've been a bastard to you since the day we met, Granger. I gladly blame a lot of that on my parents, but I'm still responsible for my actions. I know an apology from me means next to nothing, but I mean it." He ran his hands through his hair again and she thought it made him look younger to have his hair a little less styled and a little more wild. "Your fiancé is my partner for the foreseeable future, and while that's not the reason I'm apologizing to you - I've meant to since the end of the war, if I'm being perfectly honest - this little soiree has given me a window in which to do so." His expression was so vulnerable, it was all she could do not to lean across the table and pat his nervously fidgeting hands. Where was the boy who called her names? She didn't see him in this man's face. "You don't have to say anything, Granger. I don't expect forgiveness, but I just needed you to know that I've - I've changed. I'll do right by Weasley on the field and I won't be an arse to you. And I guess I just needed you to know that." He sighed, spent, and leaned back. He'd never looked more human than at that moment._

"_Hermione," she said softly after a moment, and he looked up at her, confused. "If we're starting over, you should call me Hermione. Not Granger."_

_A smile so broad it was contagious spread across his face. "Hermione," he said, offering his hand. She took it, and this time, he shook it as a friend might. "Then you'll need to call me Draco, yeah?"_

_She smiled as she shook his hand. "Sure, Draco. I think I can do that."_

_The rest of the evening was pleasant. After that first dance, Ron had returned and insisted she join him on the dance floor. He'd seemed distant, but she chalked it up to him not liking such social events and to not liking sitting with the Malfoys. It wasn't until they got home that evening, Hermione buzzed from good conversation, dancing, and a little too much wine, that she realized she had been very wrong._

"_Awfully chummy with the ferret tonight, weren't you?" Ron spat as soon as the door to their new flat closed._

"_What?" Hermione asked, confused. She hung her wrap on the coat rack and faced him, leaning against the wall to take off her heels. She'd spent most of the night dancing with Ron, and chatting with other co-workers she'd yet to meet. Of course, they'd stopped and chatted with the Malfoys more than once, as they shared a table, but she wouldn't say she'd been particularly chummy with either of them, aside from, perhaps, the conversation they'd had one on one, but that had barely lasted five minutes._

"_You and Malfoy seemed bloody friendly tonight!" he said, throwing his own shoes into the hall closet before slamming the door. "Gods, Hermione. You were talking and laughing and so bloody close to him the whole damn night, you may as well have just sucked him off right there for the world to see!"_

_Hermione stood, shocked, and stared at him. Angry tears filled her eyes. "You're drunk," she said, her voice tight. "Otherwise, you would never be so cruel and hurtful." She stared at him. "Tonight, Draco - "_

"_Draco?" he mimicked, throwing up his hands. "It's Draco now, is it?"_

"_**Draco**_ _\- " she repeated, "apologized to me. He was a gentleman, and he took the time to apologize for transgressions that were years past. He wants to be friends with us." Hermione felt a lone tear fall down her cheek. "At least you had to goddamned decency to wait until we were home to act like a bloody fool," she said through gritted teeth._

_He opened his mouth, red-faced, to speak, but she held up her hand. _"_I'll speak with you in the morning. Tonight I just - I just can't." She glared at him as more tears threatened to fall, but she held them at bay. "You can have the couch."_

_She stalked past him all the way to her room and slammed the door, locking and silencing it just after. It wasn't until she was sure he couldn't hear that she dissolved into real tears._

* * *

The next morning, he'd apologized. He'd owled Draco and invited him and his wife to brunch that next weekend and told Hermione that he'd just had too much to drink and he hadn't meant a word. It was easy to forget his initial reaction when he'd smiled at her with that special smile that made her weak in the knees, then gone out of his way to prove that he wanted to be friends with them.

Now, three years later, he was still harboring those feelings of jealousy and anger, and while she'd always known he was somewhat jealous of her friendship with Draco - as he'd mentioned it regularly, though never with so much vitriol as he had that first night - she hadn't realized the extent of it until last night. He was so jealous that he wasn't even willing to comfort his friend, his co-worker, after heartbreak. How could she have forgotten those hurtful words Ron had spewed at her after that first night?

Watching him now, his chest rose and fell as it always had, but in light of his reaction to Draco's situation, to her desire to help their mutual friend, she didn't watch that rise and fall with the same feelings of contentment she always had before. Angry at him all over again, she quietly left the bed and went to the couch.

She fell asleep wrapped in an old quilt that Molly Weasley had knitted for them when they got engaged, wondering if Draco was OK.

* * *

Hermione woke with the sun as she usually did. She knew Ron wouldn't be up for hours, which was fine by her. Her anger, it seemed, had stuck with her as she slept. It wasn't a raging fire anymore, more like orange-flickering coals, but it was still there - hot and ready to spark.

She swung her legs over the edge of the couch and rubbed her eyes. She pushed hair off her face, gritting her teeth when her fingers found knots to get stuck in. She'd need to get a brush through it at some point today, but first, caffeine. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and shuffled toward the kitchen. All thoughts of brunch with Ron had flown out the window in her anger. This morning called for coffee, not tea. Tea wasn't nearly strong enough.

She stood in her kitchen, measuring out coffee grounds and adding water to the back of the pot. She'd just set the coffee pot to brew and gotten the first rich whiff of delicious coffee when her floo roared to life.

She turned, surprised to see Draco still in his pajamas, his hair askew. From the forlorn look on his otherwise handsome face, she knew this was about Astoria. She'd hoped her talk had helped, but it had only been a bandaid. Never before had he shown up like this. He'd come over unannounced, sure, but never through the floo without asking first, and never so casually attired. He was in worse shape than she thought.

"Want some coffee?" she asked, acutely aware of her messy hair and lack of bra, but she pretended it was fine. The blanket around her shoulders would cover anything that might be inappropriate. And besides, she knew he was too distraught to care. "It'll be done in just a minute."

He nodded mutely and moved to sit at the small kitchen table in the seat he usually took - the one from which he could see the front door.

The coffee finished and Hermione poured two cups, one with cream for her, and one with cream and three sugars for him. She stirred them both and sat, handing him his, then re-wrapping the blanket around her shoulders for the sake of modesty, as well as comfort.

She took a sip, choosing to forget her anger with Ron in order to focus on her friend. He was in no position to hear her troubles. And he looked, if possible, worse than he had the day before.

He sipped his coffee and gave her a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You always make it the way I like," he said, his voice gruff.

She shrugged. "That's what friends do," she said, giving in to her urge to touch the back of his free hand with the tips of her fingers. When she was upset, being touched helped. She hoped her touch helped him, too. He nodded and took another sip of his coffee, turning his hand over to take hers in it, squeezing her fingers lightly in an uncharacteristic, but not unheard of, show of friendly affection. "Draco, what's happened?" she asked. Sad or not, something wasn't quite right with him.

He looked up at her with tears in the corners of his eyes, his lips set in grim determination. "I figured out who he is," he said, his voice breaking.

She gripped his fingers and leaned forward, her heart hammering like a hummingbird stuck in a cage. "Oh gods, Draco. How? Who is it?" she whispered.

He squeezed her fingers back and cleared his throat. He shifted in his seat, releasing his coffee mug to reach into his pocket. He pulled out something small and laid it on the table before gripping both of her hands in his, making her look up at him. His grey eyes were stormy and beautiful and she hated the pain she saw there, but something else in his eyes made butterflies - and not the good kind - erupt in her stomach. "I found this on the floor in my bedroom after I changed the bedding."

She met Draco's stormy gaze, saw the tears there, and felt her heart drop. She let go of one of his hands and picked up the item, a bent tie clip, and there inscribed on the outside were three initials - R.B.W.

She looked up at Draco, saw the pain on his face, and realized it was for _her_, not him. That's what was different about his demeanor. He was hurting for her. Her hands shook as she stared at the initials, heart thudding in her throat. With whispered words, barely as loud as a breath, she said, "It's Ron."


	3. Black Rose

_*Beta's by the one and only Bella Luna 92 (aka THE BEST).*_

* * *

Three weeks after the meet and greet, Draco and Astoria had invited Ron and Hermione out for coffee. Hermione had gotten there early, seeing as Ron had backed out in order to get some extra work in, and reserved three chairs in the corner. Draco walked in, right on time, spotted Hermione, and walked over looking as if he felt extremely awkward.

"Weasley in the loo?" he asked, standing instead of sitting in one of the saved seats.

"No, he had to stay and work late." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Is Astoria on her way?"

"Well, no." He put his hands in his pockets. "Her mother flooed just before we left and said she needed her for the evening."

"So, it's just us?" Hermione asked, her heart racing.

"Looks that way." He stood awkwardly for a moment, and then took a deep breath. "Can I get you a coffee?" he asked as if he'd made a decision.

"Sure," she said, biting the inside of her lip.

He brought her a coffee and she added a bit of cream and the conversation began. The first coffee, things were stilted and strange. They talked over each other a lot. They'd both wanted to leave, but just before that first cup was gone, the conversation shifted somehow. They shared a lot of interests - politics, history, obscure customs, and even more obscure traditions.

It was over their second cup of coffee each that their conversation really took off.

"Favorite book?" Hermione asked, her feet curled under her as she leaned over the arm of her chair toward where he sat, adjacent to herself. The third chair that she's reserved for Astoria remained empty.

"Can a person ever truly answer that question?" he asked with a smile as he crossed his legs toward her. "My favorite _genre _is probably fantasy. Or maybe nonfiction. It's hard to say."

"How does a person love both of those very _different _genres equally?" she laughed, sipping her coffee and tucking her legs more firmly beneath her.

"I have eclectic tastes," he shrugged with a smile.

It was then that Hermione's stomach decided to growl. Her cheeks bloomed crimson. Draco looked at his watch and his eyebrows went up into his hair - which, Hermione noted, he'd worn down. "It's nearly seven," he said after checking his watch. "We've been here for hours. Care to grab some dinner?"

She smiled and nodded, enjoying her time with him more than she'd thought she would and not ready for it to end. "Ron said he'd be at the Ministry until late, though."

"And Astoria said she would be with her parents until tomorrow, at the earliest. Some sort of _emergency,_" he said, using air quotes for emphasis.

"Oh, no." Hermione sat forward. "Is everything alright?"

Draco waved his hand. "An emergency for Astoria is rarely serious," he said with a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Her mother probably owled and told her about some fashion mishap she had during tea with her friends. There are many more important things to discuss at the moment. Such as, where should we eat?"

She laughed and let him pull her out of her chair when he offered his hand.

After that, they started having weekly coffee dates. Every single week, Hermione tried to get Ron to come, and every single week he declined. He hated that she went. He would rail at Hermione when she came back home, smiling and smelling like espresso. She would let him yell, then would just calmly say, "You can always come with me, Ronald." After a while, he stopped picking that same fight.

Weekly coffee dates between Hermione and Draco were followed by double dates on an almost bi-weekly basis. Ron was jealous, and Draco admitted on one of their coffee dates that Astoria was, too. So, together, they agreed that if they were to get together regularly, the four of them, it would help both of their partners feel more at ease with their friendship, which had rapidly become extremely important to both of them.

Bi-weekly double dates were made up of dinner, followed by drinks. These dates seemed to help Ron warm up to the Malfoys, and it made her heart happy when she saw that he and Astoria seemed to get along. For a while, things were good. Great, even. They would go to dinner - at a restaurant, or the Malfoy's house, or their flat - and she and Draco would talk and laugh while Ron and Astoria chatted. It was a good, comfortable, happy balance.

After the first year, Draco had taken to popping by their flat on the days he and Ron had off. He would pop by, accept a Muggle beer from the fridge, and sit to watch a game - they'd started televising quidditch, finally - on the telly with Ron. He came over to watch a game with Ron, yet somehow always found himself - on the way back from the kitchen to grab a second beer - stopping to sit with Hermione at the kitchen table, talking the rest of the night.

Though Draco and Ron were friends, and Ron and Astoria got along well, Astoria was always a bit frosty with Hermione. So when Astoria started inviting them over for tea once a month, Hermione was bound and determined to win her over. Afternoon tea for Astoria was a proper affair - quiet and reserved - and Hermione had made Ron brush up on his etiquette before they went. It wasn't nearly as much fun as their other outings, but Hermione didn't mind. As close as she'd gotten to Draco over the last year and a half, she'd stayed just as distant from Astoria. She made an effort whenever they were there to keep her attention focused on Astoria, instead of talking to Draco as she would prefer. But, even three years in, she never had managed to crack that shell, no matter how hard she'd tried.

Three years of coffees, dinners, afternoon teas - three years of conversations and friendship and a level of comfort she'd never dreamed possible - and now she sat in her kitchen, across from the man who'd become her very best friend, with the realization that the woman she'd tried desperately to get to know for three years, and the man she'd agreed to spend her life, with were having an affair.

"I stepped on it when I woke up." Draco was still holding one of her hands and he squeezed her fingers tightly. "I wish I didn't - " he squeezed her fingers again. "Hermione, I'm so sorry."

Draco was sorry. Ron was cheating. She dropped the tie clip, letting it clank against the table, to cling to his hands with both of hers. "What?" she asked, eyes wide with shock. "Why are you sorry?"

"You two - " he stopped and scooted his chair a little closer to hers. "Your relationship was what I wanted mine to be." He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. "And now - "

"We haven't been good for a while. Ron and I," she heard herself say, her voice breathless. "For a few years, at least." She swallowed. Ron had cheated on her, but she didn't feel anything. Not yet. Just numbness. Draco's fingers in hers were like an anchor to the here and now and she dreaded when she'd have to let go.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked quietly. "All our time talking, and you didn't tell me. Everything seemed so good."

"_Our_ friendship was based on your partnership with him." She felt her voice start to wobble as the shock started to wear off. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to be my friend if you knew he and I were - I was afraid that you - " She let go of his hands as reality crashed over her. She covered her mouth as a sob erupted from her gut. "_They slept together?_" she asked, eyes wide as big tears spilled down her cheeks. "You're sure?"

Draco nodded and reached up to wipe her tears away with his thumb. "Unless there would be some other reason for his tie clip to be in my bed, days after I caught her sleeping with _someone,_ I'm sure." His voice was low.

She closed her eyes and slouched toward her knees, her blanket falling from her shoulders, holding her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook as she cried and in less than a heartbeat Draco was up, his own pain pushed aside as he wrapped one strong arm around her shoulders and held her. She turned and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. He pulled her to him, sitting on her kitchen floor, holding her in his lap while she sobbed. Her arms around his neck were tense and shaking. His arms around her were firm and steady.

It was long minutes later that she stopped. She turned her face so that she was leaning her cheek against his chest. His shirt was wet with her tears.

"What do I do now?" she asked, echoing his sentiment from the day before. It felt like her whole world had imploded.

He sighed and his breath moved her hair. She was briefly reminded that it was a rat's nest, but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

"You do what you have to do. What's best for _you_, even if it's dreadful. And you don't do it by yourself," he said, his lips near her ear, his voice soft.

She nodded against his chest, took a deep breath, and dissolved in tears again.

Seven years of friendship. Two years of dating. Three years of being engaged. And it all came crashing down because he'd decided to cheat on her with someone they knew. With her best friend's wife.

"Will you stay with me?" Her cheek was pressed against his chest and she hated how pitiful she sounded. He was hurting too, not just her. "Ron's asleep, in our room, and I just can't - I just can't face this alone." Her voice was small and he pulled her closer, tucking her head beneath his chin.

He exhaled, his hands around her warm and light. "Whatever you need."

* * *

_The Christmas that Draco gave Hermione the jasmine bubble bath was the only time he'd ever come close to being unfaithful to his wife. _

_All the gifts had been exchanged and unwrapped. The food from the Ministry party was gone. All that was left were drinks and music and lowered inhibitions. Astoria had excused herself an hour before, claiming a headache, and Draco had let her go, tired of her negative attitude and wanting to just enjoy the evening as much as he could. She'd been acting strange lately, been more distant, but tonight he couldn't bring himself to care quite as much as usual. The whole day, Astoria had been a nightmare, and he was honestly relieved she'd gone home, happy to enjoy time with his friends with the pressure of being the proper pureblood that Astoria insisted upon._

_Draco was a faithful man. He'd dated other girls before Astoria, but once they were officially betrothed, he was done with all of that. He hadn't even entertained the thought of any other witch since the day he was told that his marriage contract was official. _

_And then, Hermione Granger had walked into his life - vibrant, brilliant, and funny as hell - and suddenly, there was a second woman in his life. He truly didn't think of her like that - at least not while he was awake, though his dreams were another matter entirely - but she was easy to talk to and more often than not, he found himself counting the hours between the times he would see her. She was his best friend._

_Before Astoria had left the party, Draco had given Hermione the bubble bath. He'd been afraid to get Hermione anything too personal. Astoria didn't like that he was getting her anything at all, so he'd settled on bubble bath. Of course, he had another gift for her as well, but he hadn't felt comfortable giving it to her with Astoria watching. It was an innocent gift, truly, but she wouldn't see it that way. And after Astoria left, he'd been ready to give it to her, but Weasley had given her a last-minute gift - gaudy, dangling, diamond earrings. He'd watched her smile and put them in her ears, then watched his partner parade her around the party, showing off the gift to anyone who would listen, not seeing how Hermione's smile didn't reach her eyes._

"_Oi, Malfoy, did you see Hermione's gift?" Ron asked, walking up to him, Hermione under his arm, his cheeks a little too red. He was very clearly drunk. "Cost a pretty penny, those did."_

"_They look like it, Weasley. Well done." Draco smiled, hoping it looked sincere, though it felt anything but. It wouldn't do to piss off his partner and his best friend's fiancée. "Glad Astoria hasn't seen them yet. She'll be asking for a pair to go with her new bracelet."_

_"Women," Ron said, then laughed and nodded as if proud of himself._

_"Hey, mind if I borrow your fiancée for a moment?" Draco asked. "Astoria's gotten ill in the bathroom and she wants a woman to come help her clean up. Won't let me in." It was a gamble, lying like that, but he was certain Ron hadn't noticed Astoria's exit. He'd been too busy drinking to notice much of anything._

"_Sure thing," Ron said, pulling Hermione close and kissing her noisily on the cheek before stumbling away to talk with Kingsley. _

_Hermione looked at Draco with a discerning expression, her eyes narrowed. "Astoria left an hour ago," she said, taking the arm he offered her._

_He smirked down at her as he walked away from the party, toward the bathrooms down the hall. _"_I know, but you looked like you needed a break." He shrugged. "Your earrings are - "_

"_Horrible," she said, then slapped a hand over her mouth. "Well, maybe not horrible, but - "_

"_They're definitely not you," he said with a nod. _

_She laughed and ducked her head. _"_And what sort of jewelry would be me?" she asked, smiling as she looked up at him. They were walking down a long hallway that was lit by moonlight from the windows, moving in the general directions of the bathrooms that Astoria was most definitely not in._

"_Something simple, but elegant." He shrugged. "Something that meant something to you, but most assuredly nothing so gaudy." _

_She breathed a laugh and nodded, squeezing his arm lightly. "That does sound more like me," she said, a small smile landing on her face. _

_They reached the end of the hall and Draco stopped. With a deep breath to calm nerves he couldn't quite explain, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box, much like the one Weasley had given her earlier._

"_What's this?" she asked, looking at it with her trusting brown eyes._

"_The other part of your present." He cleared his throat and offered the box to her. "It may be a bit much, but I saw this when I was out shopping and couldn't not get it for you."_

_She let go of his arm to take the box from him. Inside rested a rose gold chrysanthemum pendant, hanging from a rose gold chain. The flower was intricate and detailed, elegant and lovely._

"_The chrysanthemum represents a lot of things," he said, taking the box from her and holding the necklace up. Speechless, she turned and lifted her hair so that he could fasten it around her neck. "One of those things is cherished friendship," he said, his breath moving the hairs against her neck as he fit the clasp together. _

_Hermione turned around to face him, the chrysanthemum resting right in the middle of her sternum, her cheeks tinged pink to match the gold._

"_And I do cherish our friendship, Hermione. You are, without a doubt, my very best friend." His voice was lower than he'd intended, and h__e couldn't be sure in the moonlight, but he thought he saw her blush deepen._

"_You're my best friend, too, Draco." She smiled up at him, her hand going to the pendant against her collarbone. "This is beautiful," she breathed, looking up at him with a soft smile. _

"_So are you," he said before he could think. _

_For a breath, things were silent. His heart raced. And then she said, "You've always been a smooth talker, haven't you?" And he laughed._

"_This necklace is very much me," she said, looking down at the rose gold flower resting against her pale skin. "Thank you."_

"_You're welcome," he breathed. His heart was beating hard._

_With a determined glint in her eye, Hermione leaned forward and kissed his cheek, just to the left of his mouth. He felt his eyes close as her lips - soft and smooth - pressed against his skin. She leaned back and he immediately leaned forward, copying her action and kissing her cheek, his lips almost grazing the corner of her mouth in a way that made her shiver and made his hands sweat. They were friends. It wasn't inappropriate for friends to kiss one another's cheeks. A kiss on the cheek was a kiss on the cheek. Nothing more._

_He leaned back and looked into her dark eyes. Draco was a faithful man, but the look she was giving him made all thoughts of fidelity, of responsibility, of what would be proper, go right out the window. He felt himself leaning toward her as if pulled by an unknown force when, from down the hall, Ron called her name. At the sound of his voice they both jumped back. _

"_I should go," Hermione said, her voice unnaturally high. _

_Draco's heart was pounding against his ribs as he nodded. Had he ruined their friendship? He didn't know what to do. His brain was racing, figuring out how to fix this._

_She looked torn for a moment before she leaned in and hugged him, her arms going around his waist as they had a dozen times before. He breathed a sigh of relief at the normalcy of it and hugged her back._

"_Hermione - " he started. He needed to apologize. He wasn't in his right mind. It was late. He'd had so much wine. He just wanted her to have a little token of his friendship and things had escalated._

"_I love my gift, Draco," she said, squeezing once more before releasing him and giving him a genuine smile. "I'll see you for coffee on Tuesday, yeah?" she asked as she started to walk away._

"_Wouldn't miss it for the world." He watched her walk away and then leaned against the wall, reeling against the reality of what he'd almost done._

* * *

That had been months ago, and now he was holding her again, her body intimately pressed up against his, and all he could think about was punching Ron Weasley in his smarmy git mouth.

Weasley was a fine partner, and Draco had found he genuinely liked the man most days, but the real reason Draco worked so hard at being his partner was Hermione. She meant the world to him. Weasley did not.

Seeing Hermione collapse over the red-headed prat had been worse than seeing his wife shag another man, which was a startling realization - one that he couldn't focus on right now. So instead of focusing on it, he held his friend as she cried, clinging to him, on her kitchen floor.

* * *

When they finally stood, Hermione's eyes were red and swollen.

"What can I do?" Draco asked. He wandlessly reheated their coffee and handed hers to her. She always knew what to do for others, for him, but he was clueless. In all their time as friends, he'd never really had to do anything like this for her. She always had things handled. So he stood, itching to hold her again, but not sure if that was the right thing to do.

"Help me decide what I need to do." She took a sip of her coffee, her hands shaking, and sat back in her chair at the table. He sat in front of her again. "Everything's just - I don't understand - " she took a deep breath and focused her red-rimmed ochre eyes on him. "What did _you_ decide to do?" she asked, her usually confident voice small. "About Astoria. About your marriage ."

"I'm divorcing her," he said matter-of-factly and without hesitation. "I owled Blaise just before I came here and told him to draw up the papers." He leaned forward again and took her hand, unable to stop himself. "You were right yesterday. I needed to do what was best for me, and for me, that was ending a marriage that was more broken than I ever gave it credit for. And you - you need to do whatever is right for _you._"

Draco knew Hermione better than he knew anyone. She was a person with passion and conviction. If you hurt someone she loved, she would make you feel her wrath, but with equal fervor, she forgave almost everyone. Hermione's pain was palpable, and Draco felt his anger toward Ron grow to almost unmanageable levels, but he also knew she would probably forgive Ron, which meant, if he wanted to keep her friendship, he would need to, too.

He'd gone through all this in his head while she stared into space just over his shoulder. So, he was surprised when he pulled her hands away from him, slipped her engagement ring off her finger, and let it clunk against the kitchen table.

He stared at her for a long moment and watched her resolve grow firm. He felt something like relief flood through him - again, something he'd have to dig into later. "What can I do?" he asked.

"I need clothes, but he's asleep in our bedroom." Her voice was quiet, but it didn't waver.

"I can get them," he said, his heart racing.

"Thank you. I'm afraid if I went in there - " she trailed off, her eyes filling with tears that she refused to let fall. She sniffed once. "I need to settle a few things out here. Can - " her lip quivered slightly. "Can I stay with you for a few days?"

"You know you can," he said, his heartbreaking as he watched her crumbling and trying to hold herself together. "For as long as you need."

"Thank you," she whispered.

They stood and watched each other for a long moment before they moved into action. Draco silenced his footfalls and slipped into the bedroom he'd only been in a few times to use their loo.

Weasley was sprawled on their small bed on his stomach, snoring into his pillow. There were light pink marks down his back - tracks from someone's fingernails. Draco assumed they were Astoria's, and not Hermione's, and with a shock, he realized the thought of Hermione leaving those marks made him much more upset than the thought of his wayward wife doing it. He shook his head and slipped into the closet.

Hermione's side of the closet was neat and tidy while Weasley's was a mess. Draco's anger toward the man grew. How could someone so very different than Hermione have been engaged to her? How could he have ever made her love him as she did?

With deft fingers, Draco sifted through and picked out the clothes he knew Hermione preferred. A gold Gryffindor tee shirt, a few black tank tops, a gray oversized sweatshirt with a screen printed dragon across the front, her favorite jeans, and a few other things he knew she liked to wear. Her yellow-gold cardigan was in the hamper in the closet, but he grabbed it anyway, as she wore it more than anything. He quickly folded them all and slipped them into a bag he found on the floor.

Back in the bedroom, he opened drawers until he found her underclothes. With a blush he realized she needed both bras and underwear, and without looking too closely, he grabbed a handful of each and shoved them in the bag.

Next was the bathroom. He grabbed her toothbrush, her robe - shrinking it so it would fit in the bag - and her hairbrush, which was full of her wild, brunette curls. He dropped it all into the bag, and then looked around for anything else she might want. She wouldn't want any jewelry from Ron, he knew that, and he didn't want to go through the drawers more than he had to. He turned to leave when he saw, hanging on a peg just by the door, the chrysanthemum necklace that she wore almost every single day.

He sat the bag down and picked up the necklace, letting the weight of the pendant sit heavy in his hand.

* * *

_It was a week before the Ministry Christmas party, and Draco didn't know what to get his wife. He'd already gotten Hermione a fancy bubble bath and Wealsey a new type of butterbeer to try, but Astoria's gift was proving difficult. Jewelry was always a safe bet, so he made his way to his favorite jewelry shop, hoping to find a new bauble or sparkly something to catch her eye. _

_He'd been browsing for a while, torn between a diamond bracelet and a pair of emerald earrings. He'd just decided on the bracelet when another necklace, sitting toward the back of the showcase, caught his eye._

"_Can I see that?" he asked, motioning toward the simple rose gold chain and pendant. _

_The clerk looked at him with a critical expression as he pulled the small necklace out. It wasn't nearly as expensive as anything else in the store, which is why it had been shoved to the back, but it was simple and lovely. As soon as it hit his palm, he could picture it on Hermione. Rose gold to bring out the pink in her cheeks, just long enough to rest on her sternum, just below the hollow in her throat. And it was a chrysanthemum. It was perfect._

"_I'll take the bracelet and this necklace," he said with a smile, and the clerk raised an eyebrow at him. "Varied tastes," he said with a shrug. _

_Feeling good about his purchases, he'd left the store with a broad smile._

* * *

She'd worn the necklace regularly since then. He saw it on her most days, and each time it made him smile, though he never mentioned it. He slipped the necklace into the deep pockets of his flannel pants, not wanting it to fall from the bag.

After another quick scan of the bathroom, he nodded and slipped out. Weasley had moved, rolled to his back, but he still lay, snoring. It took a lot for Draco not to hex him while he slept, but he resisted.

The bedroom door quietly clicked shut behind him and he rejoined Hermione, who was sitting on the couch in the living room, staring at the blank screen of the telly.

"Do you want to see what I packed for you?" he asked, offering her the bag.

She jumped as if startled that he was there, then shook her head. "Oh, no. I'm sure it's fine."

"Do you want me to wake him up so you can talk to him?" he asked, sitting gently on the couch beside her. "Or, do you want to wait here?"

"No," she said, turning to him. "I left a note." She pointed toward the coffee table where, sure enough, a note rested, anchored to the table with her engagement ring and Weasley's bent tie clip. She turned back toward the telly and he saw tears shining in her eyes. "I feel so stupid," she whispered as heavy tears dripped from her cheeks onto her hands. Gone were her sobs, but these quiet tears were almost worse.

"You're anything but stupid," Draco said, slipping closer to her, but not touching her. The lines for what was acceptable with her, what was appropriate, were blurring rapidly.

"Things changed after we got engaged," she said, still staring into the telly. "We grew apart, but I couldn't see it. He spent so much time watching this damn box. I just assumed it was stress from being at work. And he hated - " her eyes flew to his. "He hated that you and I were friends." Her voice broke. "Do you think - " her tears were fat as they fell. "Do you think he did this to punish me for being your friend?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper and he felt his heart crack.

"If he did, it's still not your fault," he said, reaching over to take her tear-spotted hand in his, needing to touch her.

She took a shaky breath, then sat up straight. "It wouldn't matter to me if he did," she said, meeting his eyes again. "You're my best friend, and I wouldn't give that up." Another tear fell. "Not for anything," she breathed.

Draco was inches from her, having leaned forward as she spoke, and he was taken back to that night in the hallway when for a few moments he'd willingly forgotten he was married and had wanted so badly to lean down and press his lips to hers.

But now wasn't the time for that. So instead, he leaned forward and hugged her, crushing her to him, and she slipped her arms around him in return.

As they stood to leave, Hermione turned to Draco, her tears gone. "Is there a flower that means goodbye? Or anger?" She brushed the tears from her cheeks with her fingertips. "Something that would be obvious?"

Draco thought a moment, suddenly grateful for his mother's lessons in horticulture, and for telling Hermione about that embarrassing chapter of his childhood. "A black rose," he said after a breath. "It can mean lots of things, but one of those things is farewell."

Hermione nodded sharply. Quickly grabbing a quill - which Draco noted was Ron's favorite Chudley Cannons quill - she swished her wand and transfigured it into a wilting black rose. She laid it carefully beside her ring, the tie clip, and her note, then turned to face him, the fire back in her eyes.

"After you," he said, picking up the bag and motioning toward the fireplace. Without a backward glance, she threw powder into the floo, called out his address, and was gone.

Draco followed quickly, missing the sound of the bedroom door opening and unsteady footsteps of Ron staggering out into the living room.

* * *

Ron didn't notice the note or the flower at first. Instead, he went straight for the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee from the half-full pot that Hermione had brewed in the hours before. He briefly noted his mother's afghan on the floor and the two mugs on the table, but it wasn't until he sat on the couch, reaching for the remote, that he saw the rose.

Suddenly awake, he reached for the rose and recoiled as one of the thorns pricked his finger. Fingertip in his mouth to staunch the flow of blood, he moved the dead flower aside. His heart stuttered when he saw Hermione's ring lying beside his tie clip - the one he'd lost when Malfoy had almost caught him shagging Astoria. He'd seen her the night before, and she said she hadn't seen it. He should have known Malfoy would find it.

He put his coffee on the table, spilling it a little, and picked up the note. Hermione's handwriting was choppier than usual.

_Ronald, _

_I thought about waiting until you woke to tell you this, but since a note was fine for you last night, I figured it would do for me as well. _

_I'm giving you back your ring, and I'm returning your tie clip - __the one I gave you_ _\- seeing as Draco found it on the floor of his bedroom. It must have fallen off your tie on Thursday as you were shagging Astoria in her marital bed._

_For once in my life, I don't want to talk about any of this. I don't want to hear your side. I don't want to know why or for how long. I'm just through. _

_I truly loved the boy I met at Hogwarts. The boy with light blue eyes and the silliest sense of humor. I loved him with my whole heart. But this man you've become over the last few years is someone I'd rather not even know._

_Goodbye, Ronald._

_-Hermione_

Ron's hands turned to fists as he crumpled the note between them. He gritted his teeth and in a surge of anger, flipped the coffee table end over end. Coffee flew everywhere as the table crashed into the telly, sending it tumbling to the ground.

He looked to the floo. He knew where she'd gone. If she had the clip, then Malfoy had been here, and if she was gone, then she was with him, without a doubt. The two coffee cups made sense. Bile rose in his throat as he imagined Malfoy using this to his advantage. He would comfort her, and then he would shag her. The thought of it made bile rise in Ron's throat.

He needed to go there and bring her home, whether she wanted to come or not, but first, he needed to speak with Astoria.

Ron had started shagging her after he saw Hermione, _his fiancée_, nearly kiss Malfoy at Christmas. He knew they hadn't kissed - he didn't think they'd gotten that far ever - but it had been close enough, and after years of watching them fawn all over one another, he'd had enough. He'd been surprised at how willing the Malfoy wife was to start their affair after he told her what he'd seen, but he had not been disappointed. He'd intended to only do it once, to punish Hermione without her ever even knowing, but once he started, he couldn't stop. Astoria was beautiful, willing, and didn't expect anything of him except sex.

But now it was all falling apart. He hadn't wanted Hermione to know. He had wanted to marry her and move past her silly friendship with the ferret and live happily ever after. But that plan was ruined now.

After quickly changing into clean clothes, he tossed floo power into the fireplace and called Astoria, putting only his head in the green flames.

"Ron?" she asked, sitting up from bed, her nighty barely covering her breasts. "Back for more already?" she asked as a strap of her gown fell from her shoulder.

"We have a problem," he said gruffly. "Can I come through?"

She nodded, suddenly alert, her playfulness gone, and he stepped in. The room still smelled like a mixture of booze and their coupling the night before. He sat heavily on the bed beside her. He saw the love bites he'd left on the tops of her breasts and, even in his current situation, felt a surge of pride and lust, but he pushed that aside and faced her, shoulders hunched.

"They know," he said, his voice gruff. "Both of them."

She stared at him for a long moment before flopping back on the bed, hand over her eyes. "Bloody hell."


	4. Chrysanthemum

**Thanks to everyone who's stuck with this story so far! I think there's one chapter left after this one! This fic is rated M for language and sexual content, but this chapter is not at all lemony. The one after this, however, just might be. So, if you're under 18, better scoot along!**

**FYI: JK Rowling rules, as you well know. Be sure to leave a review!**

_*Thanks to my beta, Bella Luna 92, these sentences now make MUCH more sense!*_

* * *

"I'll put your bag in the guest room," Draco said after he came through the floo behind Hermione.

"I can do it," she said, holding her hand out to take it. He noticed her hand was shaking just a little.

"I insist," he said with a small smile. He made his way up the stairs - the guest room was just across the hall from his room - and she followed quietly.

"Thanks for letting me stay," she said quietly as they walked in the modest guest room. She'd only ever been in this room to drop off her coat during a work party. Once, Ron had tried to get her to shag in there, in the _middle_ of a party, but she'd refused. He'd been angry, but now more than ever, she was glad she'd said no.

"You don't need to thank me," he said, putting her bag on the bed and turning toward her, "You're my friend, and I'm - I'm just so sorry."

"Stop," she said, walking to him. Her voice was gruff when she said, "This isn't your fault, and it isn't mine. _We_ have nothing to be sorry for." She looked up at him and saw him swallow heavily. "We've done nothing wrong."

He nodded and said, "I brought this for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out her chrysanthemum necklace.

Her face lit up as she took it, a smile finding her lips for the first time that day. He laid it in her hand, his fingers lingering on hers for a moment - a touchstone of support.

"Will you clasp it for me?" she asked, voice quiet, offering the necklace back to him. He nodded and she turned, lifting her tangled hair. Carefully, he clasped the necklace, his fingertips touching the nape of her neck for a breath before his hands fell away. "Thank you," she breathed, touching the intricately shaped metal petals before she turned around to face him again. "What would I do without you?" she asked, a sad smile on her face.

He chuckled lightly. He wanted to joke with her, to tell her he had no idea what she would do, that she was lucky to have him, as she'd told him the day before, but it felt wrong given how things had changed. Without him, her fiancé probably wouldn't have been angry enough with her to sleep with someone else. Without him, she could have married her ginger auror and settled down for a calm life without any complications. His face fell as he realized that, in a lot of ways, it was his fault this was happening. He'd let himself get close to her, let himself ignore how it bothered Weasley and Astoria. And this was the result - heartbreak.

She stepped into him, her arms going around his waist, as always giving him what he needed. "I don't want to ever know what I would have to do without you. OK?" she said into his chest. "No matter what, I'm so _thankful_ that you're my friend." She had an uncanny knack for almost knowing what he was thinking, too.

He let his arms slip around her as he sank against her, giving in to his own selfish desire to be close to her, and using her for support. "Me too," he said into her hair. "No matter what."

She sighed against his chest - a sound both sad and resigned. "I think I'd like to shower and change into real clothes," she said, slipping away from him and self consciously crossing her arms over her chest. "I can make us something to eat after." Her cheeks were pink, her eyes swollen and red, and her hair was wild, and even though he was heartbroken that his wife had cheated on him, that the man Hermione loved had broken her trust and her heart, he was once again overcome with the desire to kiss her. What was wrong with him? He took a step back.

"I'll make food," he said with a small smile and a shake of his head. "Just come downstairs when you're finished."

She smiled and nodded and he left her to get ready, thoughts battling in his brain. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and tried to catalog them as he made his way into the kitchen.

On the one hand, he'd married Astoria because it was arranged, but he _had _loved her. It wasn't a passionate love, it wasn't a love of unadulterated choice, but it was love. They got along. She was beautiful. They both knew what the expectations were of them and they'd found common ground in that. She'd expected him to play the part of the classic pureblood husband, and he'd done it because he cared for her. He'd been raised to expect so much less - a forced joining with a suitable mate with no closeness whatsoever - so his pairing with Astoria had felt like a dream. But she'd shagged someone else - someone he thought of as a friend.

On the other hand, Hermione was his best friend. She made him laugh. She made him question things he didn't necessarily want to question and really think them through. She made him smile. When he got good news at work, she was the first person he thought of to tell. When he'd come up with his idea for the Equality Bill, he'd told her first - before Blaise, before Astoria, before he'd asked off work for time to do it. When he was upset, he wanted her opinion on how to handle it. She was the person he thought of first for most things. For all things. She was his _best friend. _She was beautiful, which was no secret. And he loved her - as a friend - deeply.

His heart felt squeezed in his chest. He loved Hermione. Deeply.

He sighed as a headache formed between his eyes.

He warmed up the spaghetti she'd made just the day before. He filled two glasses with ice and water and placed them beside the plates. On a whim, he opened the window above the sink and accio'd a handful of chrysanthemums from the garden. He took a small juice glass from the cupboard and filled it with water before placing the yellow blooms in it. As he worked, he let his thoughts wander to the witch upstairs. He thought of how she would grab his arm when she wanted him to notice something, of how her ochre eyes would light up when she was excited, of how she forgot to brush her hair when she was in the middle of anything, making it tangle and grow like some living thing.

By the time he'd gotten their food ready, and taken the time to set up flowers to match her necklace, he'd come to a realization that felt inevitable and exciting and terrifying.

He loved his wife, but he was _in love _with his best friend. He was in love with Hermione. How had he not realized it before now?

He was sitting at the table, hands sweating, when she came down a few minutes later. She was wearing the golden Gryffindor tee shirt and the jeans she loved so much - the ones with a hole in the knee that he always made fun of - her chrysanthemum necklace resting on top of the yellow fabric. Her eyes landed on the small bouquet of flowers - so much simpler than anything Astoria would ever have wanted or accepted - and she blushed.

"You know I'd be happy to buy you a new pair of pants," he said, his heart racing, trying for normalcy.

It seemed to work when she laughed lightly and shook her head.

"I just heated up what you made yesterday, so I guess, technically, you actually did do the cooking. And I know it's not even really time for lunch yet," he glanced at the clock - 10:30 AM.

"We both know I'm a _much_ better cook than you, so I think it's probably for the best that we're eating my food, rather than yours," she said with a small smirk. She sat in front of the second plate, her eyes going to the small bouquet and softening. "The flowers are beautiful. Thank you."

He shrugged, his heart beating wildly, unsure of how to navigate this new territory he'd realized he was in. "We're in this together, right?"

She picked up his hand where it rested on the table and bit her lip. "Together."

* * *

Hermione found it hard to focus on her food. Her shower had been just what she needed to clear her head. She'd scrubbed the past few days from her skin and hair and had changed into some of her favorite clothes - of course, Draco would know which clothes were her favorites. Just like he knew what kind of jewelry was _her._ Just like he knew how she liked her coffee, or what books would interest her, or what she needed when she wasn't feeling well. He _knew_ her like Ron never had, even after 12 years of being in each other's lives.

After her shower, she'd managed to work her brush through her hair and had stared at herself in the mirror for a long moment and let herself really _think _about what was happening.

Ron had been sleeping with Astoria. The man she'd pledged to marry, and eventually spend her life with, had wound up between some other witch's legs. It should be killing her, she realized. It should be making it impossible to breathe, impossible to think straight. But it wasn't. It hurt - like being stabbed in the gut - but it was a dull pain, an old pain, as if she'd been expecting something like this for so long, it wasn't surprising when it ached. She felt guilty for not feeling it more, for not being more broken over this. She should be destroyed.

She stared at herself in the mirror, at the rose gold flower resting against the fabric of her tee-shirt. Her fingers rested on it, as they often did when she needed to think, and she tried to rationally figure out why she was reacting this way.

Was she in shock? No. She felt the emotion fully, she was comprehending what had happened without trouble.

Was she in denial? No. Her fiancé had shagged another woman - likely more than once - and in so doing their relationship was over. She had no delusions that it could be fixed, and no desire to fix it.

Why wasn't she more upset? Draco. He'd swooped in, as he was known to do, and been there to lean on. He'd taken charge and helped her when she froze, he'd told her the truth, even though he knew it would hurt her, and he'd let her decide what to do, though she knew he had his own opinion about it. Her best friend, he'd taken care of her.

He was her best friend. Her _best friend. _He was - he was _Draco._

When she thought of Ron's infidelity, a dull ache bloomed in her chest. When she through of Draco, her heart raced. She touched her necklace, smiling as she did so, and suddenly it hit her. Draco - his easy smile, his comforting touch, his playful banter - was the reason she wasn't hurting as badly as she _should _be.

Now, she sat, eating a meal in his kitchen as she'd done dozens of times before, and she felt so nervous she thought she might throw up.

She opened her mouth between bites, wanting to say something, _anything_, but found no words. So they ate in silence - something unheard of for them - and the tension in the room was palpable.

"Draco - "

"Hermione - "

They spoke simultaneously and Hermione blushed as Draco laughed.

"You first," she said, stacking his plate on top of hers in the middle of the table after magicking away the leftover sauce.

He smiled and cleared his throat. "I just - " he brushed his hands through his hair, a clear sign that he was nervous. "I wanted to - " he looked at her, his eyes wide. "I'm going to make some coffee. Care to join me in the library and have some?"

"That sounds great," she said, heart fluttering. He wasn't saying something.

"Great," he repeated, a smile on his face. "I'll meet you in there."

Anxious to be away from the tension, Hermione headed toward her favorite room in Draco's house - the library. When Draco left Malfoy Manor, he'd taken all of the best books with him. Hermione had spent many hours - during afternoon tea, parties, and casual visits - in this room. She's borrowed and returned more books than she could count. She'd tried to contribute to the collection with books from The Bookshop, but he'd never let her, insisting on buying any that she wanted him to have for his collection.

Normally she would have browsed while she waited, but this wasn't a normal day. These weren't normal circumstances.

Here she was, hours after finding out that her engagement to the boy she'd loved for over a decade was over, and rather than mourning, she was in a near panic at the thought of having coffee with her friend, something they did weekly.

She sat on the couch nearest the fireplace, hands in her lap, and looked out the window.

Were these feelings she was having for Draco real? Or was she rebounding from a broken heart? She started to feel panic well up at the thought of either option as she waited. What if she acted on these feelings, and it didn't work out, and she lost her best friend? If these feelings weren't real, their friendship might not recover from the backlash. Had she felt this way before? She made herself think, really think, of how she felt about him before today.

They'd become friends and bonded over shared interests. They'd become best friends over long conversations where they bared their souls. And last Christmas, he'd almost kissed her, and for weeks after she'd thought about it, and a big part of her had wished that he had. Before that, though, had she thought of him that way? If she were being honest with herself, then she already knew the answer to that. She had. At the time, she'd justified it as a harmless crush on a friend, but looking back, she knew it had been more.

The sound of a cart being pushed down the hall shook her from her reverie. Draco walked in, finally changed out of his pajama pants and into jeans - something he'd started wearing only after he met her - with a black, v-neck tee shirt.

He locked the cart in front of her and served her coffee as one might serve tea. He put a splash of cream in her cup and handed it to her with a nervous smile. he was nervous, too. Not just her.

She looked up into his eyes. It was clear to her now, even as her heart stuttered in her chest. This was no rebound. This wasn't shock. This was a door being opened - a door she'd wished could be opened for a very long time.

She sipped her coffee and smiled. "Just how I like it."

He smirked and went to pour his own, but she stopped him with her hand. She put her coffee down on the cart and stood, moving so that she was in front of him. Her heart was pounding and her nerve endings tingled in anticipation.

He looked down at her, his blond hair falling into his eyes. His pupils were wide and his cheeks were pink.

"I'm not happy about what's happened between Ron and Astoria," she said, standing closer to him than was necessary, feeling like, now that the door was opened, she _needed _to step through it. "But it's let me see something that I hadn't seen before." She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. "And I think - "

The library floo roared to life, interrupting what she was about to say, and Hermione stepped back. From the green flames stepped Astoria, followed immediately by Ron.

* * *

Draco inwardly groaned. Hermione was about to say something important, he knew it. He'd locked the floo, but had forgotten Astoria knew how to get around the wards.

"Having a little revenge, darling?" Astoria asked as she walked into the room, wrinkling her nose at the sight of the coffee on the cart. She thought coffee was beneath a proper household and had been more than a little upset when Draco had started keeping it for when Hermione came over.

"You're not welcome in my house," Draco said, voice deep as he glowered at the pair. "I'd like you both to leave."

"Fuck you, Malfoy," Ron said, take a step toward him, his face violently red. "Hermione, come on. We're leaving." He stuck his hand out and stared at her.

"I'm not going anywhere," Hermione said, and Draco felt her shift closer to him.

"Why don't we all sit and talk this through?" Astoria suggested, ever the graceful host. She motioned toward the furniture as if inviting everyone to sit.

"You're not welcome in _my_ _house,_" Draco reiterated, grateful he'd changed out of his pajamas. She would have used that to take the upper hand.

"This is my house too, _darling_," she said, sitting in a tall, wingback chair, ankles crossed, chin high.

"Not anymore." Draco's growled. Beside him, Hermione's arm brushed his and he felt calmer.

"Finally done hiding in the shadows then?" Ron sneered, taking a step toward them, only to be stopped by Astoria's hand in front of him.

"You're one to talk," Draco said through gritted teeth. Hermione took his hand in a small show of solidarity. "Hermione is my friend. She'd never been anything except my friend." He swallowed. "Even though I would like there to be more." He felt her gaze on him but didn't look at her. He squeezed her hand. "Not once did we ever cross that line of friendship. Unlike you and my wife."

Ron's anger seemed to fade. "But, I saw you both. At Christmas. You were about to kiss - "

"He was giving me a necklace, Ron. The one you said looked _cheap._" Hermione took a step forward. Her necklace wasn't visible, having slipped beneath the neck of her tee-shirt. "I gave him a kiss on the cheek to say thank you. It's what friends do." She kept hold of Draco's hand but stepped forward toward Ron. "You _slept_ with her - " she glanced at Astoria - "and in so doing gave up _all _that we'd built. All for a kiss on the cheek between friends." Tears welled up in her eyes.

"But, I saw - " Ron looked between Hermione and Astoria, his cheeks reddening. "I saw them. Stori, I _saw _them."

"Your jealousy saw what it expected to see," Hermione said, sneering at him as a single tear slipped down her cheek. She took a step back, her shoulder against Draco's. "Draco is my friend, something you've never understood, and I believe he asked you to leave his home."

"Draco," Astoria said, standing, eyeing Hermione coldly before turning toward her husband. "We both know that whatever _this _is - " she motioned between them with her fingers, "won't last." She took a step toward him and looked up at him through her long, dark eyelashes. "We're _married_, darling. We both know that sooner or later - and my bet is on sooner - I'll be back in our marriage bed and your little witch will be back in her abysmal flat, begging Ronald to take her back." She smiled at him demurely. "You're a pureblood, and she's a muggleborn." She shrugged with one shoulder. "Why not save us all the trouble and come to the conclusion you're bound to anyway."

There was a long silence that stretched on as rage-filled Draco like boiling water. He stared at Astoria, wondering how he'd ever thought he was in love with someone who could be so cold, so cruel.

Draco took a moment to collect himself - it wouldn't do to scream at her, as she'd think he was angry because he thought she was right. Before he could calm himself enough to respond to, the sound of Blaise's voice cut through the awkward silence.

"Malfoy, you home?" he called, sounding cheerful.

"In the library!" Draco called, keeping his eyes on Astoria. If Blaise was here, that meant the divorce papers were complete. This would be better than any defense he could come up with and he couldn't keep the smirk from his face as his heart rate slowed.

"Oh, well, hello everyone!" Blaise said with a smile as he strolled into the room. He looked around and gave a comical grimace. "You could cut this tension with a bloody knife," he said as he walked up to Draco. He looked at Draco's hand in Hermione's and he smirked before offering him a plain manilla folder with MALFOY in bold black letters across the front_. _

"Blaise," Draco said with a nod. "Your timing is perfect."

"I've always been known for my punctuality," he said with a shrug.

"What is that?" Astoria asked as she eyed the envelope, her coy smile gone, replaced with a scowl.

"It's actually two things," Blaise said with a smile. Ron was standing just behind Astoria, hands in his pockets, face still red. Draco pulled Hermione back to the couch where he released her hand to look through the folder with her. He picked up a quill and ink and made notes on some of the pages. "The first is Malfoy's lovely Equality Bill. I just wanted him to have a quick look at the final product before I take it to the Wizengamot and charm their robes off." Blaise poured himself a cup of coffee from the cart Draco had wheeled in and added a splash of cream and two sugars.

"And the second thing?" Astoria asked when he failed to elaborate. Draco had stopped looking over the papers and had a determined look on his face. Hermione held one stack - the Equality Bill - and he held the other.

"Oh, divorce papers," Blaise said mildly before taking a sip of his coffee. "This is really very good!" he said with a smile, nodding toward Draco.

"Cheers, mate," Draco said as he stood. Hermione stood as well but moved to stand beside Blaise, her eyes boring holes into Ron, who was staring at her with equal parts anger and longing.

"Divorce papers?" Astoria asked, all pretense of civility gone as she clenched her hands at her sides. "You can't be serious. We're purebloods, Draco. We don't get divorced!"

"I've already signed them," Draco said, offering her the stack. "You'll find the settlement fair, I think. Blaise has delegated half of my current monetary holdings to an account for you. Because you fucked someone else in our marriage bed, I think it's only fair I keep the house." His tone was mild, but his words cut like a knife. "You're to have the summer home in Amsterdam, so don't think I'm tossing you out on the street." When she didn't take the papers, he looked to Blaise with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, yes. Right." He cleared his throat and took another drink of his coffee. "Astoria, if you choose _not _to sign the papers, I will be forced to act, as Mr. Malfoy's attorney, and the results would be less than pleasant for you."

"What could _you _do?" Astoria asked, snarling at the Italian man who wore a handsome smirk.

"Well," he said after another sip of coffee. "Really, Malfoy, top-notch coffee here!" He smiled and turned back to Astoria. "If you don't sign, you get nothing, but the divorce still goes through." He sipped his coffee again and returned the cup to the tray.

"That's ridiculous," Ron said, finally regaining his voice. "That's not how divorces work. Both parties have to agree. Even I know that!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed. "You're a pureblood, Ron. Surely you know how pureblood marriage contracts work."

"Of course I do," he said, bristling.

"If you did," Blaise said, "then you'd know that the contract states that the primary spouse - in this case, Mr. Malfoy, as he is the so-called breadwinner - has the right to dissolve a marriage before the five year mark without _any_ financial obligation to his or her spouse if there are extenuating circumstances, such as, as Mr. Malfoy stated, his wife fucking someone else on their marriage bed. However," he smiled at Astoria as she seethed. "Draco is a generous soul and has _offered _half of his monetary holdings out of the goodness of his heart."

"He's trying to buy you off!" Ron exclaimed, grabbing Astoria's arm.

"Yes. Well," she said with a sniff as she pulled free of his grip. "How long do I have to consider this?" she asked Blaise, her mask of sophistication back in place.

"I'm afraid I have a very busy schedule, what with changing the face of wizarding Britain with our Equality Bill, and I won't have a chance to look at this again for quite some time. If you don't sign today, I worry I won't get to it against until your time has lapsed." He shrugged and gave her a smile. "I would suggest, Astoria, you sign today, take half of his money, and run with it."

Astoria looked at Blaise for a long moment and then at Draco. Her neutral mask fell away, only to be replaced with an expression that was supposed to look contrite, but instead just looked like she was in some sort of abdominal pain.

"Draco," she said, taking a step toward him, that look of failed-contrition on her face. "Can't we talk about this? Just the two of us?"

Draco signed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I loved you, Astoria. At least, I thought I did. We were content, if not happy. And you had _sex_ with my _partner_ in _our bed_." He offered her the papers again. "I don't want to talk. I want to be free of this, and free of you."

After a long moment, Astoria lifted her chin and took the papers with a flourish. She moved to the writing desk beside the fire. There, she flipped through them angrily, signing each line so aggressively she nearly tore the page.

"This isn't right," Ron said, looking between Blaise and Hermione, who stood off to the side, her own face a neutral mask. "'Mione, you're just going to stand there and allow yourself be a _homewrecker?_ You're better than this!"

* * *

Draco turned, ready to draw his wand, but Hermione was already there. The manilla folder with the Equality Bill landed with a thump on a chair right before Hermione reared back and punched Ron square in his face. He fell back, shocked, and hit the ground.

"The only home wrecker in this room, Ron, is _you._ You wrecked ours, and you wrecked theirs when you got into bed with Astoria," she said, standing above him.

"This is really getting out of hand," Astoria said as she reappeared and handed Blaise the signed papers. Ron was on the ground, holding his sore jaw, and she - to the surprise of everyone present - offered him her hand and helped him stand. She turned to Draco, a scowl on her lovely face. "You're free," she spat at him.

"Well, he may be," Ron said, eyes wide with panic as he looked all around, "but you're not!" He pointed a finger at Hermione. "Who goes and leaves a nasty note along with _flowers _for a bloke she's to marry, then shacks up with some other man?"

Hermione had walked back to Draco, clenching and unclenching her hand. "I left you _a single _flower, Ron. Not _flowers_."

"What sort of flower was it?" Astoria asked Ron, never taking her eyes off of Hermione.

"A black rose. It wasn't even fresh." Ron had his arms crossed like a petulant child and it was all Hermione could do not to punch him again. "Who leaves a wilted flower."

Astoria rolled her eyes and turned to Ron, an uncharacteristically soft look on her normally hard face. "You didn't take _any _pureblood etiquette classes, did you?" she asked, no bite in her words. He looked at her, his cornflower blue eyes wide with confusion and he shook his head. "Flowers are used to convey all sorts of meaning," she said, letting her fingertips barely touch his bare forearm. "A black rose means hatred or farewell. And if it was wilted, well, that sends a clear enough message now, doesn't it." She gripped his arm lightly. "It was a final goodbye."

Ron's face fell. He spun toward Hermione, Astoria's fingers on his arm falling away. "Sending messages with flowers like some - some pureblooded _bint?_ He's corrupted you, 'Mione," he said, his voice full of vitriol.

Beside him, Astoria stiffened. In this moment it was clear to Hermione that Astoria had some sort of _actual_ feelings for Ron, just as it was clear he had no idea.

"Watch yourself, _partner,_" Draco said, glowering as he stepped just slightly in front of her - not enough to imply that she couldn't take care of herself, but just enough to imply that he wanted to keep her safe. "Not only are you insulting my - " he looked back at Hermione and her heart stuttered. His eyes were wide and confused, but he smiled. "My _best _friend," he turned back to Ron, "but you're also insulting my ex-wife."

Ron's face fell as he turned back to Astoria, the color draining from his cheeks. "That's not what I meant. Stori, I - "

"No offense taken," she said, her emotionless mask returned. "I think, if there's nothing else I need to _sign_, I'm ready to take my leave," she said to Draco.

"Astoria," Draco said, stepping toward his ex-wife, his face an unreadable mask. "We married because we were expected to." He took a deep breath. "But I did care for you. And if you hadn't - if you and Weasley hadn't - " he sighed. "I would have been faithful to you until we were old," he said, his voice resigned.

Astoria gave him a sad look. She glanced over to Hermione before looking back to him. "Our love was one of necessity. I think we both needed more than that." Hermione thought she saw Astoria's eyes twitch toward Ron. "I shouldn't have gone about it this way," she said, for once showing a bit of genuine emotion, "But it was so hard to - " she took a steadying breath as well. "You never loved me in any way _close_ to the way that you loved _her,_ almost from the first time we all sat down for a meal," she said, a harsh set to her mouth, but a soft edge to her voice. "From that first day, I knew, we were headed here."

Hermione turned red. Draco turned redder. Ron paled and his shoulders slumped.

Astoria sighed when she didn't get an answer. "Ronald," she said, her voice crisp, "Are you coming with me?" Her chin was set, defiant, but there was something vulnerable about the way she looked at him. Despite how messed up things were, Hermione hoped that they could figure out whatever they were. She thought, in a strange way, they made a good match.

"Yeah," he said, taking her hand as if he'd done it a thousand times before turning to Hermione. "'Mione, can we - " he sighed and Hermione noted that he rubbed his thumb over the back of Astoria's hand as if to soothe her. He hadn't done that to her since they'd first started dating. "Not today. Not even soon. But, sometime, could we talk?"

Hermione stared at him for a long moment and the silence grew tense. Blaise was leaning against the coffee cart, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Draco was staring at his feet, his face fading from crimson to coral. Astoria was looking up at Ron, shoulders back, and Ron was looking at Hermione in a way that reminded her so much of the boy she'd loved in school that she couldn't help but nod.

"Some time. As friends," she said. "But it will be a _long_ while before I'm ready for that." Her soft voice rang loud in the silent room.

"That's...that's fair," he said as he dipped his head. He squeezed Astoria's hand and turned to her. "Let's go, Stori."

Hermione thought she saw Astoria color lightly, but she maintained her poised expression as they walked up to the floo. She called her parents' address, and they stepped through, gone in a flash of green.

"Well, that was certainly entertaining!" Blaise said as he rubbed his hands together, his cup of coffee gone. "Congratulations to you both on your new-found freedom _and _your newfound awkwardness!" He laughed and clapped Draco on the back. "And as much as I know you're both itching to dig into said awkwardness without me here, I propose we get something a little more fun to drink and go over this Equality proposal _one_ more time. I plan to present it to the Wizengamot first thing Monday, and while I'm sure the two of you plan to either jump each other's bones or have a very long, very complicated, very awkward conversation, this must come first."

"Monday, really?" Draco said, turning to his friend, pointedly ignoring the rest of his statement. "That's fantastic." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I'll get some beers from the kitchen while you both get started," Hermione said, her cheeks still pink, needing some time on her own.

"Er, do you have any of those Muggle beers?" Blaise asked, a sheepish expression on his face. "I found them quite enjoyable last I was here."

"I'll go and see what Draco has." She gave Blaise a soft smile and left without meeting Draco's gaze.

"So," she heard Blaise say as she walked down the hallway, "I take it that even though you've only just divorced, you're already off the market, eh?"

She quickened her pace, wishing she'd closed the library door behind her.

* * *

Draco shot Blaise a scathing look and the Italian shot a devilish grin right back. "You're a prat," Draco said, falling onto the couch and laying his head back with a thump. "What if she heard you?"

"What if she did?" Blaise asked, taking a seat in a wingback next to the couch, looking ever the businessman in his pressed suit and his shiny dragon hide dress shoes. "It's been clear to me - and most of wizarding Britain - that the two of you have been hot for each other since the day you met. Er, met _again_, I suppose." Blaise shrugged and picked a piece of nonexistent lint from his suit jacket. "I'm honestly surprised it's taken so long for this to happen."

Draco looked at him and lifted an eyebrow. "You're honestly surprised it took _so _long for my wife to shag Hermione's fiancé?"

Blaise laughed, big and loud, his smile stretching across his face. "No! I'm surprised it took something of that _magnitude_ to shove the two of you together is all." He shrugged and looked at his nails. "My bet is you'll be shagging within an hour of me leaving."

Draco felt anger well up inside him at the implication. "I would never treat her that way," Draco said angrily. "Like some sort of rebound girl."

"So you don't _want_ to shag her?" Blaise asked, leaning forward conspiratorially. "She's gorgeous, mate."

"No! I mean - " Draco turned pink from his shoulders to his ears. "It's not that I don't _want_ to - " he huffed and gritted his teeth. "I just. I want _more _than that with her." His voice was a quiet growl.

From his seat, a genuine smile spread across Blaise's face and he leaned forward to put his hand on Draco's shoulder. "Just checking, mate. She's my friend, too, you know. Have to make sure your intentions are pure."

Draco, exhausted, rubbed his palm over his face. "I don't know how to navigate this," he admitted, and Blaise just clapped his shoulder again.

"You'll figure it out."

"Figure what out?" Hermione asked as she rejoined them, her cheeks noticeably less red, three beers in hand.

"How to navigate life after he's revealed to be the _King of Equality!_" Blaise said with a grin, taking the beer she offered.

"If there's anything Draco knows," she said, handing Draco a beer and then taking the seat on the couch next to him, "it's how to navigate the media when it comes to good publicity." He looked at her and she smiled at him almost shyly. "He's always been a very smooth talker." She winked, things feeling almost normal again, and suddenly, he felt lighter.

* * *

They spent the next few hours talking about the bill. Blaise had made a few small changes - where funds would come from, how to enforce pureblood family participation, etc. - but overall, when they were finished talking, they all felt like it was finally ready to present. Though Hermione wasn't part of the government in any way, they put her name on it as well. _The Malfoy-Granger Bill for Equality._ Blaise thought that if a pureblood wizard from a notoriously bigoted family and the most well-known muggleborn witch in their age bracket were to both put their stamps of approval on this, then it had the best chance of being passed. She'd put in a good deal of work on the bill as well, and was more than happy to be part of it.

"Thank you for this, Blaise," Draco said, shaking his hand as they stood. "You'll present on Monday, and if they agree to a vote, they'll call us in for questions over the following days, yes?"

"Right you are," Blaise said, turning to Hermione and taking her hand to brush his lips across her knuckles. "Hermione, darling. Always a pleasure."

She noted he wore his tie clip and smiled. "You're incorrigible, Blaise," she said with a laugh.

He waggled his eyebrows at her, then shot a smirk at Draco, who was barely containing his scowl. "I'll be in touch," he said, and with a tip of his imaginary hat, he stepped into the floo and was gone.

A thick quiet descended on the room. Hermione and Draco stood a foot apart, alone again, yet everything had changed from when they'd stood like this just a few hours before.

"So," Draco said, his mouth suddenly dry. "It's been quite a day."

Hermione looked at him and after a beat laughed. It started small but soon grew into a full belly laugh. She faced him, tears welling in her eyes as the laughed bubbled up and out. Draco's face cracked into a smile as he watched her. He'd seen this before - Hermione Granger, stressed to the brim, dissolving in laughter as a sort of pressure valve.

When her laughter finally faded, she wiped her eyes and looked up at him, cheeks pink and eyes bright, her smile bright. It had been just what she needed, what they needed, to rid the air of that last bit of tension.

He smiled down at her and a feeling he'd come to associate with _only_ her fluttered in his chest. Like moving in a dream, he reached forward and took her hand. His heart was as loud as anything he'd ever heard, but he ignored it. He moved slowly, giving her the chance to move away if she wanted, giving her the chance to react. Her eyes popped wide and her lips parted slightly as he stepped closer.

Draco slipped his long forefinger beneath the chain of her necklace at the nape of her neck and pulled the pendant from inside her shirt to let it rest on top of the yellow-gold fabric of her tee shirt. He looked at it for a moment and the back into her eyes. "When I gave you this, I told you that the chrysanthemum represented cherished friendship," he said, taking her hand so that he was holding both of hers between them.

"I remember," she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

"I didn't tell you what else it could mean, because I was afraid." He swallowed and licked his lips. "I was afraid if you knew this particular flower's other meanings, it would change things." He readjusted his grip on her hands, his feet shuffling nervously.

"Optimism. Joy. Hope. Loyal love," Hermione said, her cheeks stained the loveliest shade of pink he'd ever seen. "I borrowed your flower book after you gave me the necklace," she said a small smile on her face. "I put it back, but I needed to know what else this _could _mean." She swallowed.

He took a deep, steadying breath. "To me, you're all those things," he said, shuffling closer. "You make me feel optimistic and joyful, and hopeful. And - " he felt the words stick in his throat. "And I just meant _all_ of it," he said, chickening out.

"Thank you," she said, stepping forward enough to press a kiss to his cheek, just as she had the night he gave her the necklace. Her lips lingered and his eyes drifted closed.

She leaned back and he immediately leaned forward, again pressing his lips to her cheek, almost brushing the corner of her mouth. He felt her lean into him and he let go of her hands to run them lightly up her arms. This time, when he pulled back from kissing her cheek, he didn't hesitate. He looked down into her eyes - so warm and trusting - and lowered his face, his heart singing when she tilted her chin toward him.

Draco had had many first kisses. With Astoria, it had been planned in advance - a gala his mother had thrown, complete with falling stars and a swell of music timed just right. Other girls had been less memorable, none standing out. But this first kiss was one that he would remember for the rest of his life.

She leaned up toward him, eyes drifting closed, and when his lips finally touched hers, it was like a missing piece of his soul clicked into place.

It was slow at first - his hands on her shoulders, hers finding their way to his waist. Their lips moved against one another softly, tentatively. But as one, they became more comfortable sinking into this new feeling. She stepped closer to him. His hand slipped from her shoulders, one going to around her waist, the other into her hair. Her hands slipped around his back, resting on his shoulder blades. He sighed against her mouth and she took the opening and slipped her tongue past his lips. He groaned the velvety warm contact and deepened their kiss, neither of them ever pushing it toward anything more than it was. Sweet, passionate, and full of pent-up need.

When they finally slowed, Draco pressed a final, soft kiss to her lips, then one to each cheek, before leaning his forehead against hers. They held each other tightly, their breath mingling between them.

"Quite a day," Hermione said into the heated silence, and Draco chuckled, kissing her lips softly once more.

* * *

Hermione stepped away first, her lips tingling and her heart racing. That kiss was more than she'd ever imagined a kiss could be. But as intoxicating as it was, as much as she wanted to hold him and never let him go, she needed time to _think_. Hermione Granger was not the kind of girl to jump into something - even something that _felt_ perfect - without thinking it through. She only hoped he knew her well enough to understand that.

"Listen," Draco said, taking her hand again, his fingers warm and long, but keeping his distance. "I know this is a lot. I know - " he ran his fingers through his hair. "I know it's sudden. Fast." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "And I know you like to think things through before acting."

She nodded, the cold knot of dread in her stomach fading. Of course, he knew her well enough to know what she would need. It was why he was her best friend.

"So I propose this - " he laced his fingers his with hers ever so slightly. "We each take some time, alone, to figure out what we want." He hesitated before touching her cheek lightly with his free hand. "Because as much as I want to - " his fingers trailed down her cheek and she shivered. "To keep doing this, I need us both to be sure about it. Because if this ends up being something you regret - " he sighed. "I won't, I _can't,_ risk our friendship. Even over this."

"Alright," she said, her voice a whisper. "I can see if I can stay with Harry, or - "

"No!" he said, eyes wide, then he softened, taking his hand from her face to hold her other hand in his as he had before they kissed, standing back to give her space. "No, you'll stay here, as we planned. OK? Even if we decide to...to just stay friends, I want you to stay here." He looked so vulnerable, so open, that it was all she could do not to close the distance and kiss him again.

"OK," she said, as she held herself back, a strange sadness settling in her chest.

* * *

They parted in silence. Hermione flooed to The Bookshop, even though it was a weekend. She thought best when she worked, and as the shop's owner, she could work whenever she liked. Draco left as well, going into Diagon Alley. He thought best when he could be on the move. For the rest of the day, they were alone.

When Hermione made it back to his house, well after dinnertime, he still wasn't home and the house was dark. She made herself a sandwich, leaving a second sandwich for him on the table, then took her small bouquet of chrysanthemums to her room. After changing into her pajamas - the shorts and tee-shirt she'd been wearing when Draco came to her flat and flipped her world on its head - she climbed into the guest bed to toss and turn, still not sure she'd come to any definitive decisions.

It took her a long time to fall asleep, but when she did, she dreamed of rose gold flowers and his lips, warm and soft, on hers.


	5. Red Rose

**We've come to the last full chapter! I always reserve the right to add snippets from each world at the end of stories, but this particular story arc is coming to a close. If you don't like reading lemony scenes, just know that there is one in the middle of this chapter, but it's not too terribly detailed. Just detailed enough, in my opinion. :) And if you're under 18, as always, peace out!**

**JK Rowling is queen. I am but her subject. **

**Here we go.**

_*A HUGE thanks to Bella Luna 92 for going back through these long-winded chapters, after they were already out in the world, and polishing them up and making them all shiny for me!*_

* * *

Hermione woke with the sun, lying in the guest bed in Draco's home. The events of the previous day rushed back - the divorce, the conversation in the library, Ron's broken expression and his hand in Astoria's, and finally, Draco's lips on hers. She smiled with the last memory and burrowed deeper in the covers for a moment. When she emerged, she'd have to face a new day and the decisions he may have made while she worked and slept.

She'd thought nonstop about whether or not kissing Draco had been a mistake. About what she wanted with him. About whether or not exploring a romantic relationship with him was worth the risk of losing their friendship. And after hours of silent deliberation, followed by dreams she barely remembered, she'd come to one very clear conclusion.

Kissing Draco had been anything but a mistake. If anything, the only mistake had been waiting so long to do it. And what did she want with him? Everything. She wanted to be his friend and love him and hold him and talk with him and just be with him. Because, at the end of the day, there was no risk. Not with him.

She'd come back to his house, ready to tell him all of that and hope he felt the same, but he wasn't there. She'd fallen asleep thinking about their kiss, and worrying that she'd lost her chance to do it again. Worrying that he'd made the opposite decision.

Regardless, she had to get up. No amount of lying in this bed would change the outcome of what he'd decided. And she wouldn't know what that outcome was until she faced it.

With a huff, she threw her blankets off and blinked into the sunlight.

She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and froze. Her chrysanthemums were still on the nightstand, but next to them sat a new bouquet - a huge arrangement of assorted flowers, and beside that a book with a note tucked into the cover.

With a smile that was so broad it hurt, she scooted to the edge of her bed and really looked at the flowers - plumerias, lilies, jonquils, various colors of roses, and a host of others she didn't know. Her hair was wild and falling in her eyes, and she roughly pushed it back as she took the book in her hands.

**_The Meaning of Flowers by Marigola Rosales_**

It was the book she'd borrowed from his library to find out what the rose gold chrysanthemum might mean. She opened it, her heart fluttering, and pulled out his note, comforted by his familiar looping strokes.

_Hermione,  
I gave you time to think about what happened between us, because I know you. I know you don't ever jump before you look. You need to think through all the angles, and possibly talk it out, and research the hell out of it, and I love that about you. I also know that when you came in last night and didn't see me, that you probably assumed I'd been scared away, but really I'm just rubbish at flower arrangements and didn't quite have all this ready yet. For you, I needed it to be perfect.  
Each flower in this bouquet was chosen and placed with purpose, and while I know you're perfectly capable - more than capable - of looking up each flower on your own, I'm rather anxious for you to finish with this note and come downstairs to the library where I'm waiting for you. __So, I've done the work for you - the list is on the back. I promise, my work was thorough.  
__Every sentiment listed on the back, every word, I mean. I know that conveying sentiment through floral arrangements is a bit antiquated, but it's part of who I am. A part of my heritage that I'm not ashamed of. I needed to tell you how I felt in what I think of as the proper way, even if you think it's a bit silly. I just want to do this, every moment of my time with you, the best way.  
Read the list, then come downstairs. I'm waiting for you.  
__Yours,  
__Draco_

Hermione flipped the note over, heart racing, and read over the list, her hand going to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.

_Jonquil - this represents my desire for you to return my affections  
Orange Lily - a flower of desire, representing how much I desire you in every way  
Red Daisy - this flower is a representation of your beauty, which you often seem to forget about (but I never do)  
Plumeria - something to signify the perfection of what I hope is our new beginning  
Gardenia - a flower that shows the joy I feel whenever I'm with you  
Baby's Breath - a small token of the purity of my feelings for you  
Yellow Rose - a yellow rose means many things, but one of those is friendship, and your friendship will always be important to me, no matter what  
Red Rose - this one, I think you know, but I'll let you look it up, if you want_

Hermione finished reading the list and looked back at the flowers. Her chrysanthemums still sat, small, but no less beautiful than the greater flowers, and the combination of the two bouquets made her feel light headed with their combined promise.

She opened the book and flipped to the page on roses. It was extensive, and there was a whole subsection for the various colors and styles. Beside **RED** it said, simply, _true love. _

With hands that shook she stood and dressed - a black tank top, a clean pair of jeans - this pair without holes - and her chrysanthemum necklace. Her hair was wild from sleep, and she ran her fingers through it and pulled it into a loose, messy bun. As much of a hurry as she was in, she wanted to look nice for him. As nice as she could be without taking a huge amount of time. The guest bath was at the end of the hall and she raced there, brushing her teeth as quickly as she could and taking a quick look in the mirror. Her hair was wild, but not bad. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright. He'd given her red daisies, because he wanted her to know that she was beautiful.

She'd wasted enough time. She dashed out of the bathroom only to pause at the top of the stairs. Draco was down there, waiting for her in the library. Waiting to see if she felt about him the way he felt about her. With a shaky breath, she made her way down the stairs, her bare feet padding to the library door. It was cracked and she knocked lightly before walking in.

Draco was standing with his back to her, and when the door opened, he spun, his face so honest and open it made her heart hurt. His grey eyes were shining with unrestrained hope.

"Hi," she said as she stopped just inside the doorway.

"Hi," he said back, taking a small step forward. "Did you like your flowers?" He cleared his throat.

"They're perfect," she said, chewing the inside of her lip.

He released a breath and nodded. "Good. So, did you have enough time to think yesterday?" he asked, a nervous look on his face. "It wasn't much time. Do you need - "

Hermione, heart racing, was across the room in a beat. She took his face in her hands and kissed him. His arms were around her as soon as her fingertips touched his skin. She lifted up on her toes, her arms around his neck, and his arms tightened to lift her just off the ground. Their kiss was heated, passionate, and over far too quickly. Hermione's toes touched the ground again and she pulled back, keeping her arms around his neck to keep him close.

"Does that answer your question?" she breathed into the space between them. He laughed and nodded, his forehead resting against hers.

"And you're _sure_?" he asked, a nervous lilt to his voice. "It's not too soon? You don't have any doubts?"

She took a deep breath, her nose bumping against his. "I've never been more sure of anything," she whispered. Their lips connected again, and Hermione felt herself being swept away in a current of longing and love.

The pace of their kiss was slower now, but more intense. Draco's tongue pressed against hers and she felt her body melt against his. Her tank top had ridden up above the waist of her jeans and his warm fingers found the newly revealed skin. Goosebumps spread from her belly outward.

His hands slipped beneath her shirt and spanned her back and she arched into him as her fingers dove into his hair. She raked her fingers languidly through the pale blonde strands and he groaned into her mouth.

They were all tangled limbs, breathless sighs, and quiet moans for a long while. Hermione could feel his desire for her pressing against her belly and it made her knees feel weak. She reached for his belt and his hand shot out and stopped her.

"Wait," he said and pulled her hand back, grimacing as if it gave him physical pain to do so. "I need to do this the right way," he said, placing his hands on her waist and holding with a vice-like grip. He pressed his forehead to hers, his breath ragged. "You're too important to just jump into this. I need it to be perfect. Every part of it."

Hermione laughed lightly and brought her hands to his face, stroking his stubbled cheeks in a way she'd dreamt about on more than one occasion. "We aren't jumping into anything," she said, leaning back so that he could see her face. "It may have been a bit unconventional - considering you were married and I was engaged - but, if you think about it, we've _sort of_ been dating for nearly three years already." He looked confused and she smiled. "Coffee dates. Dinners. Discussions late into the night. Arguments over silly things and making up after. We've done all of those things, just the two of us, for _years,_ Draco." She let her fingers drift into his hair. "Whenever I was upset, you were always the person I wanted to go to first. And when I was happy about something, you were _always_ the first person I wanted to tell." She smiled at him and brushed some hair off his forehead. "You even brought me flowers - white jasmine and the most beautiful chrysanthemum I've ever seen."

He loosened his grip on her waist but kept his fingers there, holding her close. "How about that," he said as one corner of his mouth quirked up. "When we first became friends, I convinced myself that the way I felt about you was just a crush. I didn't let myself admit that what I felt was real." He tugged her a little closer. "Do you know what white jasmine represents?"

"No," Hermione said, her nose scrunched in confusion. "I never thought to check that one."

Draco smiled and his hands slipped to her lower back, pulling her closer still. "I agonized over that bubble bath." He took a deep breath and stared into her eyes, his voice taking on a husky quality when he said, "White jasmine represents unconditional and eternal love. I couldn't admit to you how I felt. I couldn't admit it to myself. But when I saw the jasmine, and needed you to have it." His eyes searched hers, back and forth, nervously after his profound confession.

"And you knew that it meant that when you bought it?" she asked with a shy smile.

"Of course I did," he said with a smirk. "I told myself it was just because it smelled so nice, but - " he shrugged as his fingers traced patterns on her spine. "But I think I just needed some small way to let you know how I felt. Even if you never actually knew what it meant."

"Well, I don't have flowers to tell you how I feel," she said, gently pulling him closer as her arms snaked back around his neck. "So, can I show you?" she whispered.

His eyes were like molten steel as he nodded, and she brought her lips to his once more.

They moved in tandem. One moment they were standing in the library, and with a crack, they were standing in the hallway between the two bedrooms, still wrapped around each other.

"You choose," she said, not wanting to make him go back into his bedroom if he wasn't ready. He didn't even hesitate. Keeping one hand around her waist, he used the other to open the door and together, they fell inside.

Hermione led him back toward the bed, kissing him languidly. As they walked, she slipped her hands beneath the hem of his shirt and let herself feel his smooth, pale chest for the first time. She'd had so many dreams - full of longing and guilt - of what his skin might feel like beneath her hands. The reality was so much better.

Hermione peeled his shirt over his head. As their lips reconnected, she ran her hands over every inch of skin she could touch. He reciprocated by pulling her tank top over her head.

He smiled against her lips. "Fair is fair," he said with a shrug, and she laughed.

This time, when her hands reached for his belt, he didn't stop her. He groaned and pressed his hips into her. She slipped the belt free and made short work of his button and zipper, letting his jeans fall around his ankles.

With heated eyes, she looked up at him and smirked. "Fair is fair," she reminded him, and he moaned against her skin as he trailed his lips down her neck while simultaneously working the button and zipper of her jeans.

Her skinny jeans didn't want to slide down her legs, so he released her neck and kissed down her chest, ghosting over her bra, gripping her hips as he kissed the flat of her stomach, until he was on his knees in front of her. She felt a blush creep up from her chest as he hooked the belt loops of her jeans and shimmied the jeans down her thighs, kissing down her legs as he did so. When his hands reached her ankles she stepped out of the jeans, and he kissed his way back up her body, kissing the points of her hips, the soft expanse of flesh right above her bra, her shoulder, all the way up to the soft skin beneath her ear. When he met her lips again, she sighed and pressed her body into his, relishing in the feel of his warm skin against hers.

She'd said she would show him how she felt, and she meant it. Never moving her lips from his, she took his hands and pulled him toward the bed. She stepped with her knee onto the bed and guided him alongside her. When she laid back on the pillows, not bothering to pull the covers down, he followed. She held him to her as he lay on top of her.

The weight of him was delicious, and she moaned into his mouth as his hands started to roam over her body - warm and strong. He rolled slightly to the side and let one hand stroke from her shoulder, down her side, to her hip. She followed suit, rubbing his chest, his arms, the soft skin just above the band of his boxer briefs. His muscles were lean and hard beneath her hands.

"Hermione," he breathed as he trailed kissed down her jaw toward her collarbone. She arched her back up into him as her hands raked soft trails along his shoulders.

His big, warm hands slipped behind her back and unhooked her bra, his breath catching as she pulled it away for him, her chest displayed in the morning light. "Gods," he whispered as his mouth enveloped one breast, eliciting a gasp from her.

She squirmed beneath him as she hooked his underwear with her fingers and wiggled them down his hips, using her toes to take them all the way off. His hard length sprang free and she felt him against her leg, hot and smooth, and she shivered.

He continued her ministrations of her breast and she lifted her hips, letting him slip her underwear off as well so that they were both completely bare to one another.

* * *

Draco gently palmed her other breast and groaned around the nipple in his mouth as he felt her leg slip over his, pulling him closer. He kissed her breast and pushed himself up so that he could look down at her. Her lips were swollen and red, her skin flushed, her hair had fallen from her haphazard bun and lay in a wild, brunette halo on the pillows. She was looking up at him with a smile and he felt his heart swell in his chest.

How could he have ever thought what he felt for Astoria was love? Nothing compared to this. Nothing else ever could.

"You're perfect," he whispered, and she laughed, a bell-like sound that warmed him from the inside out.

He dove back in, kissing her other breast as one hand trailed down her stomach to rest just above her wet warmth. She gripped his hair as she gasped, and he smiled, anticipating what was to come.

With deliberate swipes of his tongue, he moved down her stomach, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses wherever he could. He nipped at her hip bone and kissed the crevice where her leg met her hip hip, eliciting another gasp. He moved so that he was lying between her thighs, and she slowly let them fall open. He looked up at her, and her fevered eyes were on him. He kissed the inside of her thigh slowly and her eyes drifted closed.

After a moment, his lips and tongue found their way to her warmth and she gasped loudly, her grip on his hair tightening. He kissed her slowly, gently, dipping his tongue inside her as if he were kissing her mouth. He pressed her hips gently to the bed with his warm palms as she began to writhe beneath him. The little dulcet moans she was making caused him to grow harder as he slipped a single finger inside her. Her hips bucked into his hand.

When he pulled his finger away, she gripped his shoulders and pulled him up toward her, capturing his lips with fervor. "I'm supposed to be showing you how _I_ feel," she said into his mouth.

"Trust me," he said, moving to kiss her neck, his length resting in the crease of her hip. He rocked once, unable to stop himself. "You are."

She laughed as she raked her nails over his back again, this time a little harder. He was reminded of the nail marks he'd seen down Weasley's back, and even though he worried he'd regret it, he had to know if those marks were Hermione's or his ex-wife's.

"Hermione," he said as he kissed her shoulder, her sternum, her chin, "I need you to know, I haven't been with anyone like this in a _long_ time. Months." He kissed the hollow of her throat and rocked against her hip again.

"Me neither," she breathed, her fingers trailing up to rake against his scalp. "I don't even remember how long it's been."

Draco felt a band of tension in his gut release. The marks were from Astoria. Hermione was _his._ He growled against her pulse point. He wanted to go slow, to savor every second of this, but her little breaths and moans and the way she writhed beneath him were making it difficult.

"Draco," she breathed as her fingers pulled his hair lightly. "I want to show you how I feel now." She bucked her hips toward him and he took a deep breath. He felt one of her hands - small and soft - slip between them. When her fingers encircled him, it was his turn to gasp. She lifted her hips and guided him toward her center, letting go only after he was pressed against her opening.

He slipped inside, slowly, and she gripped his shoulders. When he was fully inside of her, they both released a ragged breath.

Draco leaned up to look into her eyes - her cheeks were pink, her mouth slightly open, and in her eyes, he saw the sort of look he'd always dreamed he'd see.

"I love you," he breathed, and her face transformed with her smile.

She took his face in her hands and pulled him in for a soft kiss. "I love you, too."

He smiled against her lips as he started to move. She gasped into his mouth as he rocked against her. Her legs went around his waist and together they found a rhythm that was gentle, but still intense.

Draco could feel his climax approaching quickly, too quickly, but he wouldn't let this end without Hermione finding hers first. He picked up his pace, holding her as he kissed her mouth, her throat, her shoulders. She gripped his back, her legs holding him to her, as her breaths became gasps and her gasps became a mantra of his name.

He sped up when he felt her start to tighten around him. She gripped his shoulders, her legs going rigid, and into his ear, she moaned, "Oh, gods, Draco." He felt her tremble beneath him as he moved against her, pressing into her, wanting to drag this moment out for her as long as he could. When her body started to go limp, he let his restraint go, moving against her twice more before he tensed and pressed himself into her as deeply as he could.

Still tangled together, both spent and trembling, they rolled together onto their sides. He peppered her face with tiny kisses while she pushed his hair off his forehead and trailed the pads of her fingers down the back of his neck.

They lay that way, luxuriating in the feeling of one another until the sweat on their bodies dried.

Slowly, Draco pulled away. Grabbing his wand, he performed a quick cleaning charm on both of them. He propped himself up on one elbow to look down at her and smirked. He trailed his fingers across her belly, letting his palm rest on her opposite hip. "Hermione, can I ask you something?"

She smiled and trailed her fingers lazily over his forearm. "You know you can," she said, pulling his arm from her belly to kiss his palm before returning it to his hip.

He smiled and shifted closer, draping his leg over hers. "Would you go on a date with me tonight?"

Hermione smiled and laughed outright, rolling them so that he was on his back and she was lying half on top of him. She kissed his chest, his neck, and then his chin. "I'd love to."

He grinned broadly.

"But first," she kissed his lips and then his cheek, "how about some breakfast?"

It was his turn to laugh now as he rolled her onto her back and kissed her again before standing and pulling her to her feet beside him.

* * *

After a day of gentle touches and sweet kisses, Draco and Hermione went on their first official date. When he took her to their favorite café, she'd laughed and shaken her head. After coffee, he took her to a restaurant they'd discovered in Muggle London during the first weeks of their friendship, when he'd ask her to help him learn more about Muggle culture. He told her that during all of those times - all the dinners, the coffee dates, the late night conversations - he'd imagined what it would be like to _be _with her, and that he took her to them now so that, finally, he could know what that felt like.

At the end of their date, they were spotted sharing a soft kiss outside Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. By the next day, the whole of wizarding Britain knew about their relationship thanks to a lovely article and accompanying photo in _The Daily Prophet._

When The Malfoy-Granger Equality Bill was passed soon after, the press went wild. Speculation was thrown all around about whether or not he was using her for the good press, or she was using him to push her agenda, but neither Hermione nor Draco cared. It was clear to anyone who knew them that their relationship was something unshakeable. Their lack of response to the media was all it took to douse the flames of gossip, and soon, they were accepted for what they were. They were the faces of the meshing of muggleborn and pureblood culture, and when they announced their engagement only six months later, no one was surprised.

It was after their engagement was announced in the paper that Ron showed up on their doorstep. "Can I come in?" he asked, his head down, his voice contrite.

"Alright," Hermione said, hesitating, not sure if she was ready to speak to him yet. Truly, she was glad they'd broken up - now that she knew what life was like with Draco, she knew that things with Ron would never have worked long term - but it still hurt to know that someone she'd trusted had betrayed her trust so completely. "Draco's here, in the library. Just so you know."

"That's fine," he said, hands in his pockets. "I mean, it's his house." He shrugged, and Hermione walked with him into the living room where she sat, spine straight, in one of the soft armchairs.

"If this is about our engagement - "

"It is," he said from his spot on the couch, "but it's not what you think."

Hermione huffed. "Alright then. Go on."

"I wanted to come here, in person, and apologize to you." He screwed up his face and took a deep, pained breath. "From the moment we went to that dinner for Kingsley, I saw it, you know. Saw how you looked at him and how he looked at you."

"Ron, I _never_ cheated on you - "

"I know," he said, holding up his hands. "I know you never acted on how you felt. Hell, I don't even think you _realized_ it then. Nor him. But I saw it. So when you started having coffee with him, spending time with him, even when it was the four of us, I got angry, jealous, and we both know I make bad choices when I'm either of those things." He sighed. "I could see you falling for him, 'Mione, and even though I knew you would never do anything to hurt me outright, I wanted to punish you for how you were making me feel."

"Ron - " Hermione felt a swell of emotion as she saw Ron from her youth resurfacing in his words now.

"I went to Stori after Christmas when I saw you almost kiss. I thought I'd just caught you, that you did that all the time - sneaking around and kissing in secret. It was the excuse I needed, honestly. Stori and I had gotten close - not as close as you and Malfoy, but close. When the two of you would be talking about Merlin knows what on our double dates, she and I would talk about the two of you. She felt like I did - angry, jealous, fed up. So when I came to her and told her what I'd seen, we just sort of fell into getting back at you both without really thinking it through." He sighed and there were tears in his eyes. Hermione held back the urge to pat his hand.

"I was so _angry_ with you, 'Mione." He said, his tears refusing to fall. "And after everything happened, after things ended, I was just mad at myself." He sighed and sat up straight. "I know it'll be hard to believe, but I really am happy for you. And Malfoy - Taylor's a rubbish partner compared to him, by the way." He cleared his throat. "In all your photos in the _Prophet, _the two of you seem genuinely happy."

"We are," Draco said from the doorway, causing Ron to jump and turn light pink all the way up to his ears.

"Well, that's good, then," Ron said, fidgeting as Draco moved to stand behind the chair where Hermione sat. He put his hand on her shoulder, and her hand found his to give it a squeeze.

"And how are things with Astoria?" Hermione asked gently. Ron's cheeks reddened and he ducked his head.

"Fairly well," he admitted, glancing between the two in front of him. "I don't know that I've made the best impression, given how we started and all. She deserves better," he admitted, his shoulders falling.

"Want some advice, mate?" Draco asked as he leaned against the back of the chair and lightly squeezed Hermione's shoulder. Ron shrugged noncommittally. "Try giving her flowers."

Ron looked up, an almost comical grimace on his freckled face. "I know I've no right to ask, but, any suggestions of what kind? I gave her some yellow carnations because she looks so lovely in yellow, and it made her cry. She didn't speak to me for a week. I looked it up after I figured out she was upset about what kind they were. Apparently my flowers told her I was _rejecting_ her." His elbows were on his knees and his face fell into his hands. "I would appreciate any suggestion that won't make her cry. Or get mad at me."

Draco laughed, but not in a mocking way. He moved from behind Hermione to sit on the couch a foot or so away from Ron.

There was parchment and a quill on the coffee table, and without preamble, Draco made a list, saying it aloud as he wrote. "Dahlias to represent elegance. Yellow _tulips _to show her that she makes you happy. _White _carnations to show her that you plan to be _faithful._"

At this, Ron ducked his head and blushed.

"And finally, blue cornflowers. They're typically worn as boutonnieres by young men in love," Draco said, blowing on the parchment before folding it and handing it to him. "And in the bouquet, they'll show her how you feel about her."

"And, they'll match your eyes," Hermione contributed. "I think she'll like that."

Ron took the folded parchment and tucked it into his pocket. He stood, followed by both Draco and Hermione, his face a permanent shade of pink. He offered Draco his hand, as Draco had done at that dinner over three years before, and Draco took it, shaking it firmly.

"Thank you," Ron said to him. "And for what it's worth, I really am sorry for - for causing you both so much pain."

"It all worked out in the end," Draco said with a shrug as he released his hand.

"'Mione," Ron said, taking a step closer and holding out his hand as well. Hermione took it and shook it once, before stepping closer and giving him a brief hug, just as she would have done in school. When she stepped back, he looked down at her new engagement ring and a sad smile slipped onto his face. "That ring looks a lot more like you than the one I gave you, huh?"

Hermione looked down at her ring - a thin silver band with a teardrop-shaped alexandrite stone flanked on either side by tiny diamonds that twinkled like stars. When he'd asked her to marry him, and offered her the ring, she'd laughed and she'd cried. Alexandrite looked green in some lights, and red in others. The perfect blending of their Slytherin and Gryffindor pasts.

"Just a bit," she said, smiling as Draco slid next to her, his arm going around her waist.

"Well, congratulations, again." He nodded once and put his hands in his pockets. "I suppose I'm off to buy some flowers." With another nod, Ron left the room, head ducked low. When the front door clicked shut behind him, Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"That could have gone _much_ worse," Hermione said, turning to wrap her arms around Draco's waist, breathing in the mixed scent of his cologne, which was light and fresh, and jasmine, a result of their shared bath earlier that morning.

"I'm happy for them," Draco said as he kissed her hair, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on her back.

"Me too," Hermione said with a sigh, sinking into his embrace. "You know, before you, I didn't think of flowers as anything special."

She felt his laugh deep in his chest.

He swished his wand behind her back, then leaned to pick up the newly transformed quill on the table. One arm still around her, he shifted and offered her the newly formed bright red tulip. She laughed and took it, looking up at him over the vivid, supple petals.

"And what does _this _flower mean?" she asked with a smirk.

He smirked right back and pulled her to him. "Why don't you let me show you?"

She laughed as his lips crashed against hers and let herself get washed away in that now-familiar wave of longing, peace, and love.

* * *

**That's a wrap! I hope you've enjoyed this fic! If you did, I'd love to hear from you! Thank you to everyone who followed, favorited, or reviewed! You all make the world go round.**


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